One Way Or Another
by Carly Cisco
Summary: What happens when love comes in the wrong time? This is a about how Santana's story saved Quinn's marriage. Two different love stories mostly focused on Brittana. But I assure you that there is Faberry, too. I apologize for the hazy plot lines in the foreword. However, you'll get the story in later parts. Pure Faberrittana AU. Credits to ManuPRS.
1. Foreword

**Present Day**

Quinn Fabray's eyes opened the instant the moment the alarm clock rang into her ear. Throwing her left hand blindly to stop the contraption, she fumbled for the sheets with her right hand, and feeling the coldness of the other side of the bed she had grown so accustomed to during the past months told her that yes, she was alone again.

She looked around once her eyes were accustomed to the light from the window. She squinted them...once, twice, thrice. She could hear the faucet in the bathroom viciously gushing out. Looking at the digital clock, Quinn's head shot up from the pillows. She's terribly late.

Again.

Her feet felt rough against the carpet that she and Rachel had received from Hiram Berry, one of Rachel's dad, during their wedding two years ago as their wedding gift. Clutching at her brown cotton robe, Quinn quickly made her way to the shower for a quick splash and she wiggled her way through the sink, where Rachel was viciously brushing her teeth.

Rachel's toothpaste-filled mouth gurgled something inaudible that Quinn can't even comprehend, although Quinn had a hunch that it was yet another hurried morning pleasantry thrown her way. She mumbled a "good morning" to her brown-haired wife, and then she moved into the shower. She unceremoniously tossed her clothes to the side and felt the water trickle down her frame.

"The electrician called," Rachel said from the sink once she had rinsed her mouth with water. "He said there was something wrong with the internal heating and circuits...something, I did not really remember."

"Yeah?" Quinn yelled over the shower.

"Yeah. He had to tear out a few boards in the basement and it cost him nine hundred bucks," Rachel said calmly.

"Nine hundred?" There was a clatter behind the shower curtains, and the curtain rings slid over the metal beam. "He charged how much?" a dripping Quinn Fabray stood beside Rachel in front of the mirror.

"He charged nine hundred bucks," Rachel repeated for Quinn.

"And what'd you say?" Quinn growled, her eyebrows now furrowed on her forehead. By then, she was starting to change into her work clothes that she had stashed into one of the hangers just opposite the sink.

"I said I would sleep with him and he said he'd knock out a hundred and fifty," Rachel said off-handedly, although she wanted Quinn to be angry at her for saying such things. She needed to feel that Quinn still wanted her.

"That's good thinking, honey," Quinn grinned, wheezing out of the bathroom and she went running to the kitchen counter to retrieve her car keys. She did not even bother to touch the toast and the coffee Rachel had prepped up for her.

Rachel was left wistfully looking at her own reflection in the wide vanity mirror in their bathroom, just listening to Quinn's rushed clatter in the kitchen and then the slam of the front door of their three-bedroom apartment in downtown Manhattan.

Quinn wove her way through the city streets, hoping that she could cut off a few minutes from her late travel. The traffic had become more and more congested by the minute. However, that did not try to keep Quinn from trying.

Quinn wound her way through the subway, then jumping to the train and running the whole block from the subway ride to Schuester Literary Agency where she had been spending her days as a proofreader.

"You're late, Fabray," Sue Sylvester, the supervising head of the agency growled as Quinn rushed into the office as Quinn ran into the woman on her way to her cubicle.

"But I'm just five minutes late!" Quinn cried out.

"Five minutes late," Sue breathed out. "Is still late, Quinn Fabray. Now get your ass moving because I've got more important things than you to waste my time on."

Quinn only nodded and went on walking to her cubicle. She looked around the messy desk and decided to pick up the upturned and spilling coffee cup from yesterday. A neat stack of bond papers were already on her right hand side. And right hand side means long-ass work to do for Quinn Fabray.

"Damn it," Quinn mumbled as she threw the coffee cup from yesterday into the trash bin under her desk. She hated days like these, and knowing she had that long-ass editing job to do was making it worse than it already was.

Four hours and three cups of strong, black coffee later, Sue Sylvester's pop-up window appeared on her screen. Will Schuester was smart enough to create a private local area network chat room inside the building, making communications between employees easier and a lot more fast.

_Sue Sylvester: Fabray. Come to my office. NOW._

Quinn stared at the computer monitor, internally debating whether she would reply to Sue Sylvester's message, telling her boss that no, she is held by work and she had something to do or just walk into Sue's office, telling that face of evil that no, she's not there to do something for her.

"Damn it!" Quinn kicked the trash bin underneath her desk, causing a resounding thwack. She stood up a few moments later, and walked her way to Sue Sylvester's office calmly as she counted her steps.

"Now, what do I owe you?" Quinn mumbled at Blaine Anderson, Sue Sylvester's flaming gay secretary.

"Good luck, Fabgay," Blaine smiled at the blonde-haired beauty. "Sue's waiting for you."

Quinn went into the adjacent room and she saw the elder blonde sitting calmly behind her desk. She was wearing the teal-colored business jacket she had seen her in when she ran into her earlier and Quinn could see a hint of deep green underneath it. Classy and ethereal-looking, as usual.

"Hello, Quinn," Sue chittered coldly.

"Hello," Quinn had almost wanted to add a colorful adjective but she had stopped herself. The truth is, Quinn never liked her job. Don't get her wrong, she loved her work. Being an editor is hard, but Quinn loved it. However, Quinn had the royal hatred against her boss and her colleagues, which translates to her being a total bitch to everyone that comes near her.

"Please, have a seat," Sue motioned to the cream-colored chair that sat on the opposite side of the desk. Quinn complied without haste and tapped her fingers on her thighs, a habit she had formed during her college days.

"Quinn, I understand that you had been working for sometime now," Sue started to say. "Do you know Finn Hudson?"

"Yeah," Quinn nodded slowly. "He is an article researcher, but that's all I know."

"He was an article researcher," Sue said evenly, except she had emphasized the 'was' in her sentence. "He had a car accident last night and his ass is on a hospital bed right now."

Quinn blinked, once...twice...thrice.

"Not that I am glad about it, though. However, you Quinn Fabray," Sue leaned over her desk. "I need you to take over his place."

"What? Me?" Quinn pointed at herself, shell-shocked and clearly not grasping the idea of her being a writer.

"Yes, Quinn Fabray, you," the elderly lady pointed blood-red talons at her. "I expect you to pass a freshly prepped article a three weeks from now. And you better make it interesting."

"But, I'm a proofreader! Do you expect me to know what to write and whatnot?" Quinn blurted out. She was never the one to back down when she had her reasons. Sue winced at the volume of her voice she had been using.

"Yes, you are. But I am your boss and I am putting you in charge of the next month's cover story," Sue growled impatiently. "I need your perspectives tomorrow. If you can't give me at least one strong and good-founded plan on your research tomorrow morning, I have to send you to Baghdad or wherever there's war. No more questions? Thank you. You can leave now."

Quinn sat with her mouth agape, until she realized that Sue wasn't going to say anything more and she can't do anything to change Sue's mind. She sighed softly and stood up. "Alright, Miss Sylvester. I'll try to come up with an idea tomorrow."

Her heavy feet carried her out of the elder lady's office, with Blaine tagging behind her. She even made no effort to conceal her barely disguised contempt for that day. She grumbled as she sat down on her desk.

"What?" she growled at Blaine.

"Sue wants to have the draft you're editing. She said she plans on giving it to Roz so you can, you know focus on your new assignment," Blaine said.

"Like she really cares," Quinn admonished and finished her flair with a decent eye roll.

"She really does. And she knows you need this assignment, Quinn."

"I don't give a damn as to what she cares about and whatnot. I don't care about that stupid fuckface Hudson that's on a hospital bed somewhere," Quinn muttered.

"You need this job, Fabray. Now you can go home," Blaine stood there for a few moments, then left Quinn to herself.

During the ride home, Quinn sat thinking to herself as to what might be the best thing to do since she had to submit a proper article proposal on Sue Sylvester's desk by tomorrow morning and there is no fucking way she can do it. Suddenly, in the midst her deep thought, her phone vibrated on the dashboard and Quinn quickly whipped it open.

_Dad Hiram: I'm coming over at six._

"Damn it!" Quinn growled. Don't get her wrong. She loves her wife's family, especially Hiram, but with all the pressure she's had this morning, she can't handle Hiram's unstoppable mouth about raising children and grandchildren, because hey, she's not yet up for it.

Quinn sat behind the wheel, immersed in her thought, and inwardly cursing at the universe because she just had her worst day in the whole history of ever.

She arrived home later that day, only to find Rachel on the couch, obviously waiting for her.

"Hey," Rachel greeted.

"Hey, you," Quinn mumbled past her wife's way and missed out how Rachel's shoulders deflated as she took a deep breath and let it out as a deep sigh.

"How was work?" Quinn asked, feeling as if it was more of a responsibility than an innate interest in her wife's day at the community high school where Rachel taught English.

Rachel's eyes lit up for a fraction of a second and she looked at Quinn, beaming happily. "It was actually fun."

"Okay," Quinn casually shrugged, and then she turned away, yet missing again Rachel's pained eyes.

"Your dad texted, by the way. He said he's coming over," Quinn said as she walked up the stairs. "I'll go get changed. Who's gonna cook?"

"It's your night," Rachel responded as she followed Quinn up to their bedroom. They took on turns on cooking dinner, but most of the time, Quinn misses it out and Rachel usually does every household chore, especailly when Quinn had long days in her job.

"Can you just make an order?" Quinn muttered, clearly annoyed at the idea that she ahs to cook for them tonight.

"But, Quinn, you said..."

"No, I am so tired. I just had a shitty day and don't drop this on me, Rae," Quinn protested as she cut her wife off. "Please...just make the order."

"Okay," Rachel sighed as she left the room, clearly trying to hide the pain in her eyes as she made her way to the kitchen phone. She then made the order for pizza.

Dinner with Hiram was uneventful, especially that it only consisted of plain cheese pizza, some microwaved gourmet dinner and a tuna sandwich. However, as what Quin had expected, the issue of having children was then brought up by Rachel's dad.

"So, Quinn...aren't you two a bit, well, say...too quiet here?" Hiram asked as he downed another glass of cheap champagne.

"Well, not really, Hiram. I mean, Rachel and I...we just got on our feet and seriously, we ain't rushing it. If Rachel's ready, then I'm ready...but if one of us isn't ready yet, well, that means the whole I-want-to-have-a-grandbaby vibes you're feeling now has to wait," Quinn fired at Hiram.

"Well, my point there, Quinn, is that, I am not getting any younger and so are you," Hiram said as he cast a loving smile upon the couple in front of him. "I would like to believe that once you have a child, you're taking marriage to a whole new level," Hiram retorted with a smirk.

"Dad, if Quinn's not ready," Rachel cut in. "Then I don't think having a child at this point would be a good idea."

"Damn right, Rae. I mean, yeah, I wanna take this on to a higher level, but not just now. I mean, right now, we're all treating it casually and I and Rae still had the time of our lives. I am busy building up a career so I can provide a better ground, whenever it comes, you know...the baby and whatnot and all," Quinn reasoned.

"I see your point, Quinn," Hiram smiled, and then folded his hands over the table. "Oh, I have to get going, my girls. I still have a business meeting to attend to. Think about what I am saying."

"Okay, I guess," Quinn mumbled tentatively as Hiram stood up. "I guess, we'll see you around then."

"Visit us more often, Dad," Rachel said.

Half an hour later, Quinn was sitting on the couch, on the search for whatever that may sound good to the public mainstream of articles when she landed on a photograph of a family of four, stuck as a filler-in for an article in some old magazine. On their background was the deep, blue sea and there was something in the photograph that got Quinn's attention. She skimmed through the lines and realized that the photograph was taken at an island near the Florida Keys, and almost a few miles off of Cuba.

She took out her pen and started to plan on her research. She'd talk to locals, see a few sights, take out a few photographs and get some insights on life on the coastlines of the Atlantic. Two hours later, Quinn turned in for the night.

Rachel slept at the right side of the bed, and she was facing the nightlight. Quinn got on the bed's left side, faced the nightlight and turned it off. Without missing a beat, Quinn fell asleep.

The next morning, bright and early, Quinn walked in Sue's office, smiling proudly to herself. She didn't even bother to knock and she approached the Sue Sylvester sitting on her desk, her pink blouse clinging to her boobs just right.

"So, Fabray, show me what you got," Sue mumbled.

"I...was planning on Florida," Quinn rambled. "I mean, an article about island life in Florida."

"What?"

"Look, here Sue, why don't we make an article about summer getaways and island life. Clearly, no one has ever had thought of it. I mean, we all talk about fashion and clothes and exercise and diet programs, but hey, we missed out on how nature can help build a person's well-being. Plus, good-looking magazines pay well. And it's summer," Quinn breathed out, and she covertly crossed her fingers together.

Sue sat thinking for a moment, and she looked as if she was trying to consider Quinn's proposal. Then a wide grin broke into the old woman's grave face. "Cook it for me, Fabray."

Quinn breathed out a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Sue."

"Anderson," Sue called her assistant. "Book a flight to Florida, please. And have a company's credit card for Fabray."

Sue then turned to Quinn. "Pack some clothes tonight. Your flight to Florida will be tomorrow at six."

Later that afternoon, Quinn was battling against the knapsack zipper when Rachel came into their room, exhausted and looking as if a bomb has been dropped on her.

Quinn looked at her wife, and there was that duty again to check out on Rachel. "Long day?" she croaked out.

Rachel only nodded. "I'll cook. Where you going?"

"Work," Quinn answered nonchalantly.

"You have to leave?" Rachel asked, her voice soft, yet hollow.

"Yeah. I gotta go do some research over someplace in Florida," Quinn shrugged.

"When're you gonna be back?"

"Maybe a week from now...maybe, five days," Quinn muttered as she pushed a little more on the zipper until it was snapped close.

"Okay..." Rachel stood up, then left for the kitchen.

That night, as usual, they slept with their backs turned on each other.

..

Quinn stretched the rubber band on her right index finger again...and again. She had done the damn thing for almost the millionth time and thankfully, the PA called that they can board on the plane already.

She wiggled her way through the plane's coach and found her seat. It seemed that luck was on her side because she was having a window seat. She quickly popped her knapsack into the overhead cabin and started to plug in the ear buds she had brought with her and she started to listen to The Script.

Travel to Florida would take her five hours, so Quinn settled to read a book, however, after the first fifteen pages, she found the story utterly boring and just opted out to sleep, which was on her part, a benefit after having the lack of sleep the previous night.

..

The next moment Quinn had opened her eyes was because of the jolt she had felt when the plane tires made contact with the rough runway. She shifted awkwardly on her chair, and then she shifted to stretch her stiff neck.

She stepped aboard the plane and inhaled the salty air of Tampa. Then, she set out to do the first thing she had to do – book a room in the local motel.

She picked her way through the neighborhood, and she quickly found one. It was a small inn, and she would prefer something like that, because it looked clean and affordable, and safe. She quickly hoisted herself upon the steps and went to the young teenage receptionist.

"Hey, how much does a room cost?"

"You can afford it," the girl said in a matter-of-factly tone.

"Alright, give me a room, just one. I'm tired," Quinn grumbled and the girl quickly handed her a key to the room. Quinn dragged her feet across the lounge and went into one of the hallways. Queer as it sounds to her, but the rooms seemed to be deserted, but she figured out it was because most of the people were in the beaches or wherever.

A good five hours of sleep later, Quinn emerged at the lounge that afternoon. She was wearing her faded brown khaki pants, a white shirt and a sporty pair of rubber sandal. She had hoisted a camera bag around her hip and slung a rucksack on her shoulders for her camera.

It's showtime.

Quinn walked along the boardwalk, where a lot of shops were setting up. Most of them were textile stores and sold driftwood sculptures, chairs, tables and some furniture. Some others also sell surfing gears, surfboards and some were filled with boats for rent. She interviewed a few people, especially the shop owners and the surfers.

She went on about them, asking questions, wanting to hear stories. The only thing that held her back from her story-picking was her growling stomach. Quinn wiped the slick film of sweat across her forehead as she approached an old man sitting beside the doorway of a craft shop.

"Mister, can I ask you something?" Quinn politely said.

"You just did, Miss," the old man replied as he crossed then recrossed his legs.

"Well, can I ask you, something else?" Quinn grinned easily. She's facing a shrewd man.

"Fire away, then."

"Do you know any restaurants here?" Quinn said, the growling in her stomach was becoming unbearable by the moment. The old man gave her a funny look, then he grinned.

"I see your need. Just walk around this lane," he pointed to his left. "And when you come to the end of it just turn left, you'll find the Snugly Ducky. It's Tuesday and it's a good day out there."

Quinn thanked the man and went to the direction he gave for her. The restaurant was just round the corner. It wasn't big and posh, but she found it rather homely. By then, it was getting dark and Quinn's stomach was already having a riot so she pushed through the revolving doors. She took a single booth just around the corner, near the wall.

It seemed like a great place for her, and she noticed that the place was like, comfortable and there was this ambiance to Quinn that the diner had more than food to offer. A framed photograph took her attention, and it deliberately carried her away towards the reality she's stuck in.

"May I take your order please?" a blonde-haired girl materialized just behind her, causing her to tear her eyes away from the framed photograph above her.

"I...I haven't really looked at the menu yet," Quinn said apologetically. "You can just come back, if you want."

"No, it's alright, ma'am. I mean, you're in my section so I'll just wait for your order," the girl grinned.

"Well, thank you...Kitty," Quinn drawled as she stared at the girl's name plate. "Is that your real name?"

"Yeah. So, what's your order?" the girl asked again.

"I'm sorry, I just don't really know," Quinn smiled politely. "What do you think I could get? Your best dish perhaps?"

"Cool. You're not allergic to chicken are you?"

Quinn snorted and smiled. "Of course,I am not."

"Then I'll serve you an orange chicken," Kitty scurried away to the counter where she yelled something about an orange chicken into a brown-haired girl around the same age as her.

Quinn was left again to stare at the wall, and her eyes did not take long to stick into the silhouette photograph of a blonde girl on a hay bale, facing something that seems to be the sun. The light that caught her eyes weren't much, but it had made the girl look utterly beautiful. Ethereal was the only word that Quinn could ever describe the photograph. It was as though the girl in the picture had something in her eyes. Something that Quinn can't point out. One thing she was sure though, the beautiful girl has a story behind her.

"Why are you sitting on my booth?" a harsh growl snapped Quinn back into the reality.

"Excuse me?" Quinn asked, clearly unfazed by the man and she was taken aback by the man's angry face.

"I asked, why are you sitting on my booth?"

"No, you can't tell me where I am supposed to sit. And frankly, I haven't seen your name written on the booth...or wherever for that matter," Quinn snapped.

"Orange chicken for the new girl in town!" Kitty wheezed between Quinn and the man. She quickly plunked down the orange chicken on the table.

"Kitty, what's this?" the man asked. "Does she know where she's sitting?"

Kitty looked at the man warily and looked at Quinn. "Sorry, Noah. She's a tourist."

"Tourist or not, she can't sit on this booth," the guy named Noah growled.

"You can just enjoy the beer on the other table, you know that," Kitty reasoned out.

"You do know why I sit on this booth every night, Kit. And she's blocking the damn photograph," Noah said.

"Well, you can share the booth if you want," Kitty said as she pulled out a stool from her side. "You have to suck it up, Noah."

"Whatever, Kit. Go back to your work," Noah sat on the stool. "I guess I'm gonna suck it up, anyways."

"I'm really sorry, miss," Kitty apologized to Quinn.

"It's alright, dear," Quinn threw Noah a sharp look. "I guess I have to suck it up, too."

As soon as Kitty left the two of them, Noah started to speak. "I'm sorry. It's just that...no one sits on this booth because everybody knows I always sit on this booth every night. You're a tourist, and I thought you already knew."

Quinn didn't respond for a while. She was thinking as to why the man had always wanted to sit on the booth and look at the photograph. She settled to ask him for herself.

"Why?"

"Why what?" Noah asked as he downed half of his beer.

"I mean, why do you want to sit here every time?" Quinn asked Noah politely.

"Oh, you weren't listening to me and Kits earlier, right?" Noah chuckled. "Well, I want to see the photograph of the girl on top of your head. See that?" he pointed to the wall.

"Yeah, it's beautiful," Quinn looked at the picture. "I bet you knew her."

"Yeah, I do know her, a lot. But I never got her full name. I'm Puck by the way. My real name is Noah Puckerman, but everyone, except Kitty, calls me Puck."

"Uh-huh. Okay, so why didn't you get her name? Was it a one night stand?" Quinn rambled. "No offense."

Puck looked at her with bewildered shock.

"I know, yeah...well, I was thinking you were...uhh," Quinn said. "I'm sorry, Puck."

"No, it's okay," the man smiled. "I know, with the mohawk and all, I am a perfect contender for that field of night's work."

Quinn lowered her head for a minute, and then she looked apologetically at Puck. She then looked at the orange chicken. "I'm sorry, Puck."

"I never met her in person, for the record," Puck chuckled as she opened his second bottle of beer and leaned on the table.

"What do you mean?" Quinn's eyes popped open as she understood what Puck was saying.

"I never met her in person," Puck repeated.

"Tell me," Quinn said.

"It's a long story," Puck leaned back a little.

Quinn was ready to tell Puck that she was up for the story no matter how damned long that story about the girl was because hell, she's too interested, but someone on the makeshift stage was trying to get Puck's attention.

"Yo, Puck!" another boy called to the mohawked man with his failing ghetto talk. "You're up!"

Noah Puckerman looked at Quinn apologetically. "I'm sorry. I have to go now." Puck quickly stood up and walked away.

"But what about..."

"Come back tomorrow, same time, I'm free," Puck yelled as he made his way to the stage. "By the way, I didn't get your name?"

"I'm Quinn Fabray!"

Puck ran to the guy and they shared a fist pump and a hug.

"So, good evening, folks. As our tradition calls for it, me and Marley," Kitty pulled the brown-haired girl she was talking to earlier on the stage "...are gonna work for the rest of the night while there is music for everyone."

"Today is Tuesday and it means that it's our hardcore rock pair, Jake and Noah will play for us," the girl named Marley smiled at everyone. Quinn sat back, looking at them with keen interest.

Jake and Noah stood on the stage as Kitty and Marley went down the stage. Jake tapped the microphone three times and smiled at Puck. "It's all good, big bro."

"Hey everyone! Good evening!" Puck smiled at everyone in the room and his gaze lingered across Quinn. "I just wanna say something. Hold on for a second."

"As we all know it, I always play a certain song right before a performance, and so...here I go," Puck said and he strummed his guitar.

"I dedicate this song...to the blue-eyed girl," he gazed across the room and looked at Quinn.

_Blue eyes, blue eyes..._

_She had the sun's rays in her hair..._

_She's got the ocean in her eyes..._

_Oh, blue eyes..._

_She's like a summer day..._

_Soft and mellow as the afternoons_

_Of sweet summer days..._

"So, there you go fellas," Puck smiled. "Me and Jake will sing Heaven. So here goes nothing."

Jake and Puck played several songs later, and then Quinn left. She planned for tomorrow and she looked at the time. The local fire dancing on the coastlines would start in ten minutes so she decided to agree with Puck. She'll be back tomorrow.

..

Quinn took a deep breath as she walked into the restaurant. She found Noah Puckerman sitting on the same booth as yesterday, staring at the girl's photograph. He had a couple of bottles of beers on the table.

"Hey you," Quinn breathed out. "How're you?"

"Hey," Puck grinned. "I'm great, you?"

"I'm great. And I kind of really wanna hear your story about the girl," Quinn said as she pulled a stool and sat in front of Puck.

"Getting straight to the point, are we?" Puck chuckled and then drank from his beer bottle. "How about a beer, Miss Fabray?"

"No, thanks," Quinn politely refused the man. "But I would really love it if you want to tell me about the girl."

"Alright. Well, the photograph wasn't taken anywhere near here, Miss Fabray. The photograph was taken almost five years ago, in Lima. That's in Ohio and a thousand miles from here. It was the summer of 2008."

"A thousand miles away from LA, too," Quinn chuckled softly.

"You're from LA?" Puck snorted a little and smiled. "I've been to LA when I was in high school. And it's almost a decade from now."

"Seriously?" Quinn blurted out. "I'm sorry."

"Well, back to the girl's story. Two and a half years ago, a girl came here, just like how you came inside this restaurant. She sat on the same booth we're sitting now," Puck smiled at the memory.

"And?" Quinn said with a hint of interest in her voice.

"At one glance I saw right through her brown eyes. Later that night, I found out that her name was Santana Lopez," Puck chuckled. "I asked her what brought her to Florida, and she told me she wanted to forget where she had left her heart."

Quinn sat across Puck with something in her eyes, like some enchanted girl wanting to hear more.

"I laughed at her, but man, she cried big tears," Puck chuckled softly at himself. "I know she wasn't crying for a long time, because she was really crying hard at that night. The next night she came back and apologized for her behavior and stuff. I told her she's fine and she can stay for a chat. Long story short, she became a regular, and I always stayed back each night for a talk with her. And most of her talks consisted of a blonde, blue-eyed girl she had met at some local town someplace in Allen County...in Ohio."

There was a pause between them, and Quinn smiled softly.

"She fell in love with the girl in the photograph. She was the one who took that," Puck explained as he stared at the frame like it's some sort of a lost memory piece.

"Tell me," Quinn said. "I'll buy us dinner."

"You might as well buy some beers. It will be a long night, Miss Fabray."

"I won't care," Quinn smiled as she motioned for Kitty to come and take their order.

"So, you can sit back now," Puck smiled softly at Quinn.

"Fire away," Quinn smiled back as she crossed her legs.

* * *

**A/N: So here I am again, I am back and ready to do more stories for you, so thank you so much to all of you, because you were my strength through everything in my life and I love you guys so much. Leave your reviews behind because they inspire me.**

**Please stay tuned in to my account for weekly updates. Thank you for choosing to read this fan fiction.**

**P.S. Santana and Brittany will be in the next chapters. Also, the next chapter would be a part of Puck's storytelling.**


	2. A Monday Surprise

**July 14, 2008 - Monday**

**Interstate 75 near Lima, Ohio**

Santana leaned over the hood of her pick-up truck that July mid-afternoon. The thin film of sweat adorning her pretty face glistened under the harsh afternoon sun. In her twenty-five years of being on the road, the summer of 2008 was the worst, and the hottest. She dabbed her left hand across her forehead, successfully wiping away the dust and the slick fluid spreading on her head as she went back behind the wheel.

"Come on now, just start...just start..." she silently prayed to the highest heavens that her beat-up Chevy would start. Having a beat-up Chevy for thistravel was bad enough, but her engine going off like that while she's stuck in Interstate 75 just like that is the final straw for her that day. Santana doesn't need it.

"I swear, if you don't start now..." Santana gritted her teeth as she turned on the ignition keys one more time, and the engine now spluttered to life.

"Yay, I knew you're my best friend Snix," Santana smiled as she closed the truck door. She started to drive someplace over the town of Lima, wishing that she would at least be able to find a cheap motel to stay the night.

However, her luck seemed to be out of nowhere's view, or she's just shit out of luck because one-thirds of a mile later, her engine broke down again.

"Oh no, not again," Santana groaned exasperatedly. The sun was getting hotter, she's getting desperate as the light of day started to fade. Sure, she can spend the night in the open road, but she can't spend the night without dinner.

Looking at her dashboard, she stared at the blinking orange icon, and she realized that she was running out of gas. There was no one around to help her, and she didn't know what she should do. She tried to look at her phone, but in her unfortunate streak of bad luck, her phone wasn't getting any service.

She did something she knew she had to do. She started to walk down the road, hoping that a car would take her downtown, or wherever she could get gas, and maybe some food or better yet, a place to stay the night. She walked, some quarter of a mile when she spotted a cream-colored typical country house, perfect with a deep porch and some steps and a chocolate-brown front door.

Santana started to walk up the steps as she stared at the porch floor. Hardwood – and the expensive type of hardwood. She smiled at herself. Whoever who owned this must be resilient. That kind of hardwood floor won't shine itself. It must have taken a lot of scrubbing and waxing to make it shine like a fucking dollar.

She continued to walk and she knocked on the door. "Hello?"

"Who's that?" a voice came from somewhere inside the house.

"I'm...I uhh, need your help," Santana squirmed. "My car broke down and I want to ask if...where's the way to the town square, or any gasoline station."

"Wait a sec," the voice yelled back again and there was a thud and the door slightly opened. "Are you alone?" the voice asked.

"Yeah," Santana answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and the person on the other side of the door wasn't able to see it.

"Okay," the voice said, and the door opened a little more wider, revealing a young blonde, a little bit taller than Santana and she was holding a .38 caliber gun. "What do you want?"

"Geez, lady, I just want directions," Santana held up her hands defensively. "I'm no killer or some mugger or what."

"You don't look like one," the girl snapped at her.

"Because I am not one," Santana admonished. "Why so tight with your gun, huh?"

"This place doesn't spell security, especially for housewives like me," the girl said, and then stared at Santana from her boots to her hair. "Hispanic, huh. So what are you? A jumper over the borders?"

"No. I am not. My name is Santana and I am an American citizen and a photographer. I got lost in the Interstate and my truck broke in the middle of the road, some quarter of a mile here. I need someone to tow it for me. Now, can I ask where the direction of the town square is? Or any payphone?"

The girl lowered her gun for a moment and looked at Santana, then she tilted her shoulders in a way that she was shrugging it casually. "Come in."

"Okay," Santana said as she followed the girl inside the house. "So you're a housewife, huh?"

"How did you know?" the girl looked at her and aimed the gun point-blank at the Hispanic woman's forehead.

"For god's sake lady, chill!" Santana growled. "You said this place doesn't spell security for housewives like you, so I kinda figured it out."

"Oh, sorry...did I say that?"

"Yeah, you did, and no, it's fine," Santana shrugged as she looked at a portrait of the girl, along with a young blonde man and a blonde girl between them. "He your husband?" Santana asked as they rounded for the living room.

"Yes, his name is Sam and that's our daughter, Ashley."

"Oh. How old was she?"

"Five. I gave her out when I was nineteen," the girl answered. "I'm Brittany Pierce-Evans, by the way."

"Santana Lopez. Where's your husband and your kid? Farm?" Santana quirked a brow jokingly.

"No. They're in Philadelphia for a horse show and competition on Thursday afternoon, where our horse took part. Ashley was pretty crazy about the competition," Brittany smiled proudly.

"But why did they leave on a Monday? I mean, Philadelphia isn't far away and you can drive to Philadelphia for like, a couple of hours," Santana said, her eyebrows furrowed in keen interest.

"They're staying at my in-laws for a couple of days in Pittsburgh, that's why. The competition will be held in Wyomissing, so they found it real convenient. What about you? What brought you here?"

"I'm traveling through the Interstate. You know, taking pictures, doing a lot of stuff. That's what I do for a living. I'm planning to reach San Francisco by the end of next month," Santana shrugged.

"Oh, then you must be a child of the open road," Brittany smiled and stood up. "Not many of them comes around this route anymore."

"If I am, then you are an old soul," Santana remarked.

"I am, quiet so. Would you like a glass of lemonade?"

"I would love to," Santana's voice shrilled a couple of notes higher. Just the thought of the cold drink relieved her burning throat, even if slightly.

"Hold on a sec, okay?" Brittany stood up and walked to the kitchen, her floral sundress was dancing behind her.

She seemed to dance along the cupboards, her rhythm following an imaginary and unheard tune. She hummed a little, and Santana smiled at the view. Santana knew she gets attracted to girls, but she also knew what Brittany's limitations were. But the thought did not keep Santana's eyes from peering at the goddess in the kitchen.

"So, where is your car? I mean, I've got Sam's old truck in the barn so we can tow it," Brittany smiled as she handed the drink to Santana.

"It's somewhere south of your house, almost a quarter of a mile off," Santana filled in the question's answer. "I just followed the road that lead to your house. As I can remember, I didn't make any turns. I just ran out of gas, so if you've got a spare liter, maybe I could buy it or something, you know."

"Jackson Pass," Brittany said thoughtfully. "If I am not mistaken, of course. And yes, I have a couple of pints of spare gasoline in our barn. I just hope Sam hadn't used it for the tractor."

"I do hope so," Santana pointed out. "How about we hit that barn now?"

"Getting out of here a little too fast?" Brittany joked, although deep inside her she doesn't want this woman to leave her house just yet.

"I only asked for directions and a lemonade," Santana smiled.

"And spare gasoline, among other things," Brittany chirped as she led them both to the kitchen back door and out into the yard. They rounded a bend and they caught sight of the barn. Brittany took a couple of moments as she heaved to open the heavy-bolted barn door. And inside, Santana peeked into a beat-up pick-up truck that she doesn't even know what year it came out in the market. Brittany loaded the spare gasoline behind the truck.

"You're funny, you know that, don't you?" Santana grinned at Brittany as the blonde started the car. "I mean, maybe that's why you got a husband."

"You're kidding," Brittany quipped and they pulled out into the gravel road. "Aren't you?"

"Of course, I am not kidding," Santana smiled. "So, who's staying with you for the night?"

"Bailey," Brittany smiled.

"Bailey?" Santana raised a brow as she demands an explanation on who Bailey was.

"She's my dog," Brittany shrugged. "You should keep a dog, too. You know, you'll need it when you're lonely in the road."

"Maybe," Santana smiled animatedly. She didn't know why, but she feels so easy and comfortable around Brittany's presence. Not that she would tell Brittany that.

"Maybe you should name him Roadster or maybe Casey if it's a girl," Brittany grins. She didn't also know why, but she likes being around with Santana. Not that she would tell the Latina that.

"Maybe, I'll name her Brittany, perhaps," Santana smiled as she cracked the joke. "But, no way I'm raising a female dog."

"Well, whatever you'd like, Santana," Brittany smiled again, and then they both spotted the beat-up Chevy across the road.

"There's my Snix," Santana burst out. "I'm surprised it's still in one piece, given that it was already almost an hour since I left it."

"Interstate 75 is a safe road, Santana," Brittany's voice remarked. "I didn't know you had a knack to name your beat-up Chevy with that name."

After putting the spare gasoline into Santana's engine, she went on starting the car. As she turned the ignition, the dead engine started to splutter and cough out dark smoke.

"Looks like it's not in the mood to start!" Brittany yelled from the road.

"I can make it start!" Santana argued as she turned the key one more time, and one more time, she failed in making the truck start.

"I told you," Brittany smiled as she stood by the truck's door. She stared at Santana, who was busily flustering at the controls of the truck.

"I'll just have to make him start," Santana growled exasperatedly.

"I'll tow it for you," Brittany grinned as she looked at Santana.

"No. Don't bother," Santana ripped the hood of the truck open, and then turned to look at the wiring system. Clutching a black wire, Santana coiled it around a red wire. "It's gonna start now," she concluded.

"I can start it for you," Brittany offered as she went inside the car and turned on the ignition keys. The engine coughed and spitted, and then it started its usual growl.

"I told you, I will make it start. I can make it start!" Santana declared.

"Tell me, who turned on the key?" Brittany quirked a brow as she flashed Santana another mega-watt smile.

"Whatever," Santana admonished. "Okay, one more thing, where can I stay the night? Some hostel or a cheap motel or inn?"

"You'll be at the Townsend Inn. It's a mile's drive from here, it's just down the road, you know," Brittany smiled as she climbed into the car. "Come on now, racer," she winked at Santana.

"Race ya," Santana smiled and she climbed into the Chevy and drove just behind Brittany's truck. She quickly stopped for a while at Brittany's and after so much refusal from Brittany, Santana was clutching her payment for the gasoline that she used and she was making her way to Townsend Inn.

The inn was good enough for her tastes. She had a clean shower and the people around her aren't creeps, or at least they did not look like one. She quickly showered, then she went down for dinner. However, an idea hit Santana as she was making her way towards the Italian restaurant just adjacent to the inn.

"Hey," she breathed out at the waitress once she got in. "Can I have two Italian beef steaks?"

"Yeah, what else?" the pudgy waitress looked at her with barely disguised contempt. "Hurry up."

"And an apple pie," Santana smiled smugly. The waitress disappeared into the back door and there was yelling, and twenty-five minutes later, Santana was leaving the restaurant, clutching two paper bags filled with food and a six-pack of Heineken on her other hand. She then got inside her car and drove towards Brittany's house.

"Hey," she smiled as Brittany answered her in the first knock. "Not pointing a gun at me now, are we?"

"Come in," Brittany smiled. "And yes, I saw you drive down the road. Do you need anything?"

"Yeah," Santana scrunched her forehead a little and rubbed her palms together. "I was hoping we'd you know, sit down together and have dinner. I wouldn't want you sharing your dinner with a dog, you know."

"Thank you for your hospitality, Santana," Brittany smiled shyly as she batted her eyelashes. "You can put all those food on the table. And feel free to move around."

Bailey, a brownish gold terrier cocked its head and growled as Santana walked into the kitchen.

"Whoa there, buddy. I ain't gonna hurt ya," Santana growled softly.

"Come on, Bailey," Brittany chuckled as she beckoned the dog to come near her. "Just put it over the counter, please."

Santana prepared all the food using some plastic boxes and she set them on the table. She quietly waited for the blonde to come in the kitchen to share the dinner with her.

"It's a hot night," Brittany breathed out as she came in the kitchen, pulling back her hair into a ponytail.

"Sure it is," Santana commented. "I just wish Ohio doesn't have hot summer nights."

"Me too," Brittany agreed. "You mind if I open some windows?"

"No, not really. I think maybe you really should, my shirt is sticking on my back," Santana complained. "I think I'm going to die out of the heat."

"It's already eight and the temperature isn't going down," Brittany smiled. "If it was, I'm not noticing it."

Santana gave out a snort as she handed down the steak to Brittany. The blonde in turn, smiled and mouthed a shy 'thank you' to the Latina softly.

"I got it in the local restaurant just near the inn," Santana explained. "I just thought you should know, you know."

"I know, Santana. Thanks, a lot. I really appreciate it," Brittany smiles at Santana as she poured the beer into the glasses.

"Yeah, so, bon appetit," Santana smiled and started to eat as soon as Brittany took her first bite of the food, too.

Dinner between them went on, and it only consisted of soft gurgles and mere comments about the food. Santana let Brittany talk much about farms and raising animals, because she wanted to show how interested she was in Brittany. However, over dessert, an idea struck her, so that she can keep Brittany close to her and know her more in the next couple of days.

"Brittany," she crossed her arms slowly. "How would you like to come with me tomorrow? You know, take me to a few places, do the whole tourist guide thing, you know what I mean?"

Brittany seemed to take in the proposal for a minute and just looked at Santana for a whole three minutes. Finally, she grinned.

"Fine with me," she stated. "I would like to go with you."

"That's great," Santana grinned. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Santana. Just knock tomorrow morning," Brittany batted her eyelids. "I've got some chocolate truffles in the fridge, you want some?"

"Well, let me have some, if that doesn't bother you," Santana smirked as she looked over Brittany's shoulder, straight into the fridge.

A couple of truffles after, Brittany walked Santana to the front door, shyly batting her eyes once in a while and both of them stealing glances at each other secretly. They did not say anything, but they occasionally brushed shoulders as they both walked through the hallway.

"So, tomorrow then," Santana smiled as she descended from the porch steps.

"Yeah, tomorrow," Brittany grinned animatedly as she looked at Santana. "Be early."

"I will. Goodbye for now, Brittany Pierce-Evans," Santana smiled. However, she was taken aback as Brittany leaned in to kiss her left cheek. Santana shivered under the contact of Brittany's lips on her skin, and even if after the skin had left her cheek, heat seemed to radiate from the point of contact.

"Good night, Santana Lopez," Brittany said, starry-eyed and somewhat elated as she watched Santana get in the Chevy truck.

"Good night, Brittany," Santana smiled as she turned the engine on. Clutching the left side of her cheek, Santana drove back to her inn, leaving the blonde girl who had the stars in her eyes.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, compared to the previous part this chapter is pretty short. I intentionally made that, and to clear things out, Quinn won't cheat on Rachel. But that doesn't spell out that she's notice Rachel anytime soon. The following updates would still focus on the Brittana storyline. And yes, I will add dates to make the stories more distinguished.**

**And yes, Brittany here is married to Sam Evans. There goes your Brittana endgame. No I was just kidding, but yes, Brittany is married. And yes, she's cheating, though technically she didn't cheat on Sam with a dinner with Santana.**

**Please leave your review and tell me what you think. Thank you again for choosing to read this fan fiction. xx**


	3. Lima Lake

**July 15, 2008 – Tuesday**

**Lima, Ohio**

Santana was dressed in her usual white shirt, earth-brown pants and combat boots that Tuesday morning. The sun was not yet rising, but it had already cast a pinkish-red glow over the horizon, making the distant hills on the opposite side of Lima Lake look misty blue.

She grabbed a bag of chocolate-chip pancakes and two cups of coffee from the restaurant, then she walked towards her Chevy. In a few minutes she was driving down the road towards the Evans' house.

She had knocked once and the door swung open for her. Bailey, the terrier, instantly strutted towards her and cuddled for a moment, then the dog went back inside the house, and Santana was met by Brittany's electric blue eyes. It was electric, literally, because even just with Brittany staring down at her with her eyes, Santana already felt the shivers running up and down her spine.

"Hey, you," Santana said, her mouth breathing out a puff of white air from the brisk morning.

"Hey, why don't you get in?" Brittany stepped at the door's side to give Santana access.

"Thanks," the Latina said as she made her way through the dark hallway and seated herself on one of the cushioned couches in the Evans' living room. "I brought breakfast."

"Would you care for a cup of coffee?" Brittany smiled as she stood from the doorway connecting the kitchen and the living room.

Santana smiled and chortled a little. "No. I bought us each a cup."

"Okay, thank you. I, I have a batch of muffins to share."

"I would love that, Brittany."

"I'll have it up in no time," Brittany grinned and disappeared into the kitchen. The blonde then later came back with four homemade blueberry muffins all placed on a plate. She set them atop the glass top coffee table.

"I made them last night. I couldn't sleep, you know. I don't know why, but yeah," Brittany fidgeted with her fingers and the act didn't go unnoticed by the Latina's eyes.

"You must have stayed up late for these stuff," Santana took a bite with the muffins. "What are in these things?"

"Blueberries. I got them some few yards away from the farm," Brittany explained.

"You've gone berry picking?" Santana's eyes popped as she tasted the heavenly sweetness of the berries.

"Well, sort of, yeah," Brittany shrugged casually. "I did a few months back and sweetened them."

"I'm pretty impressed. Sam Evans was one lucky husband," Santana grinned as she drank from her Styrofoam coffee cup. "By the way, you make real yummy muffins."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Brittany leaned back on the club chair she was sitting on. "So, where do you plan to take pictures with, Miss Lopez?"

"I'd take the lake," Santana looked straight Brittany across the coffee table. "Last night, I was sitting in front of my desk and I looked out my window and, well let's just say I saw something beautiful."

"You're never the one to use colorful adjectives, are you?" Brittany said. By the joke in her voice, Santana smiled and let out a giggle.

"I always say what I want," Santana said. "As long as it's truth, you know."

Brittany only nodded softly to herself, watching Santana sip her coffee in silence. "Well, there's a spring just half a mile off the lake."

"Really? Is it good?" Santana's curious eyes shone like dark gems.

"I don't know. I just thought you'd take a look," Brittany explained. "It's alright, by the way. There are a lot of guppies. I'm...I'm not saying you gotta have to go, though," Brittany shrugged and smiled at Santana shyly.

"How about we have breakfast first, then we'll decide whether we'd go to the spring," Brittany smiled as she took a bite from her muffin. After a few more bites in silence, Brittany stood up and went to retrieve something inside one of the drawers on the mahogany sidepiece.

"Here is a map of Lima," Brittany waved out a piece of paper and she put it on the coffee table. She then pointed to a stretch of broken lines, all leading to what seemed to be the lake. "So, we can use the trail here, I think your Chevy could handle that, given that Snix's engine could take a beating. It's gonna take like forty-five minutes to travel over there and another forty-five minutes back. It's a back road."

Santana peered over the paper and examined it carefully. "The road any good?"

"It's fair. It's an old roadway and not many of the cars pass it. In fact, I think no one does," Brittany shrugged her shoulders again. "I think we should take it."

"Well, I'll never argue on the roadways with a local," Santana smiled as she stared at her coffee. Then she lifted her eyes to Brittany and she just realized that the blonde had been looking at her for a while. Santana shyly ducked her eyes softly.

"You've got beautiful brown eyes, Santana."

"Thanks."

A wave of silence hung over them both as they looked at each other, sometimes locking gazes once in a while. But mostly, each of the other avoided each other's gaze.

"So, should we go now?" Santana rose up from her feet.

"I packed lunch. I managed to do," Brittany said. "I can bring the sandwiches I made if you want to have them."

"Sure, how about I start backing the car up and you pack them?" Santana smiled as she picked up the dishes and carried them to the dishwasher.

"Yeah, will do."

After washing the dishes and loading all her gears on the truck, Santana was already driving across the country with the blonde by her passenger seat. She was listening to Coldplay's Yellow and was banging her head on the tune of music. Brittany watched her with pure amusement, and there was something in her eyes that shines – and sparked something inside Santana, too.

"Hey, will you listen to that?" Brittany squeaked as Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You plays. Brittany started to sing in tune with the music and Santana started to hum through the first verse. The Latina then belted out at the chorus.

"We could have a shot at the local music fair, you know," Brittany remarked.

"I know. I've got the hots for a hottie, you know," Santana grinned. "Tell me, Britt, have you ever been gone to places?"

"Well, not really that much. My grandparents were Dutch immigrants. They moved here and settled in Maine. Seeing that they were never having enough money, they moved here in Ohio and started farming here. Ever since then, we've never moved," Brittany said, somehow there was something in her voice that Santana had noticed. It's some sort of resignation, regret – Santana doesn't really know how to call it.

"Oh, so tell me, how'd you met Sam?" Santana said, suddenly feeling that there is a need for her to pretend that she was indeed interested in Brittany's marriage.

"Well, it's not really that much," Brittany tilted her head to one side, and all the same time scrunching her nose. Santana gave her a look that tells Brittany to say anyways.

"Okay, so when I was nineteen, Sam went with his older brother here from Pennsylvania during one of the fairs in Allen County. He was a bareback rider by then, and I danced in the town's square dance, and that's how I met him. Three months through our relationship, I married him. And I had Ashley," Brittany smiled as she told her story to Santana.

"Must be some young love or something, huh?" Santana's brow quirked in its signature way as she looked at Brittany.

"Probably," Brittany chuckled. "Have you ever fell in love? Have you ever felt that love that's so strong and beautiful that you think you can't live without them?"

Santana smiled. "Once I did," she muttered. "With a girl. But it didn't turn out well."

There was a short gasp from Brittany and she grinned at the Latina. However, Santana took it wrongly and a scowl was already put on full blow on her face.

"It's not that I don't like them or the people like you, you know," Brittany rambled. "I mean I have nothing against you and I really appreciate that you are telling me this and for trusting me with something about you that's so intimate. And I actually find you an interesting person. Now I'm...I'm rambling."

Santana looked at Brittany straight in the eye and the sunlight caught the blue eyes, making it shine like sapphire gems. For a while, Santana forgot that she was driving. Being caught in the moment, Santana averted her eyes on to the road again.

"What are we even talking about?" Brittany moaned. "Come on, tell me about her."

"Well, to start with, she was a Polish pianist," Santana smiled as she looked into the rear view mirror and caught a glimpse of the leafy foliage that swallowed the back road they were traveling. She notice that Brittany was intent on listening to her.

"We met in some bar, once. I was too drunk to care and I started singing a Michael Buble song. It was all in the wrong notes and pitches, but Anna – that was her name; she was laughing at me anyway. I think that my singing entertained her. I stopped and placed myself in front of the bar, she walked up to me and that's how it all started," Santana said.

"So, why didn't it turn out so well?" Brittany asked.

"Well, my time in Poland was really short, just a clean two months. I had to move out to Tibet, and that's it, it was a mutual decision though. I asked her to let go and she did, so it's really not that much," Santana shrugged.

"After that?"

"In a year? No more," Santana smiled. "I still remember her though, sometimes. It's been over a year, since I left Poland. I've been to places. And I think, me and Anna were just meant to, you know, meet at some point in our life and then separate."

Brittany nodded as if she understood Santana and she smiled. "Sometimes though San, there are those people who you meet at one point in your life and they'll stay forever ingrained in you memories like they've been with you all your life."

"Maybe," Santana shrugged. They came into a trail and Santana pulled up of the road. "We're here."

"Yeah. Let's just climb up the trail and we'll come over the woodlands," Brittany huffed.

"Lead the way, shall you?" Santana said in a posh British accent.

"I would love to, milady," Brittany grinned as she held out her hand for Santana to hold on to as they stepped onto the moss-covered trail. They walked a little when the trail became slippery.

"Hey, you have to be careful when you step on that," Santana warned as she saw that Brittany's next step was supposed to land on a wet patch on the trail. But the warning came out to late, because Brittany was falling dangerously the next moment Santana realizes it.

She caught the blonde's hand and pulled her close towards her body. The momentum caused Santana to lose her balance, too. And both women fell on the trail.

"Ouch," Santana growled. However, Santana's initial sense of pain faded into the sun as she lifted her eyes upon the other set of blue eyes above her. Brittany was way too close to her, their bodies flushed together, lips almost touching dangerously. Santana winced, and Brittany just gazed at her.

It must have been minutes or hours or seconds, but neither of them seemed to make an effort to move. They just stayed there, Santana's back on the ground, Brittany locked safely in her arms, and Brittany laying half of her body atop Santana's feeling the Latina's heartbeat straight through her blouse.

Brittany was the first one to pull away from the timeless pit they have both been in. She awkwardly stood up and tried to dust away the dirt that had accumulated over her old faded blue jeans.

"Sorry," she quietly mumbled to Santana and she quickly stood up from the ground. Santana also awkwardly stood up, and retrieved her fallen camera pack and started to check on her things. After a few minutes of checking out her things, she decided that nothing seemed wrong and she smiled at Brittany.

"We're all cool. Let's go take some pictures," Santana clicked her tongue and headed for the trail. They continues to walk, sometimes in silence, but Santana noticed that Brittany walks while humming to herself softly.

"You know, there's a river in India," Santana started to say as they came into the lake's margin. "It was a sacred river. Most people come to the river at a certain time of the year to wash their sins. They believe that the water would carry their sins and pains away."

"I never believed in such things, Santana. On the contrary, I believe that we all have a chance," Brittany said as she perched herself upon a smooth rock at the edge of the lake. "We all have a chance to be forgiven, to forgive, to fall in love...to be loved."

There was something about Brittany and the way she said the last three words that just made Santana melt from the inside. It's like she had this warm bubbling spring inside her, that seemed to burst out. She had never felt that, not even when she's with Anna. Not even when she was out in the London streets, taking the queen's photograph.

It was something else that was entirely...different.

"It's hot," Brittany said as she paced across the gravel margin and sat onto the half-strewn hay bale that was left on the ground by whoever that fed his horse out of that bale or whatever.

"What's a hay bale doing out here?" Santana's brows knitted in confusion.

"Must be Farmer Figgins and his donkey," Brittany answered back, her eyes gazed upon the waters, and they seemed to catch the light coming from the sun. Santana found it very beautiful and endearing and enchanting and...

Her camera clicked a few times and she whispered the word "beauty" onto the breeze as she peered through the lenses.

"You took a picture of me?" Brittany said.

"It's a good thing to keep. Don't worry, I'll send you a copy," Santana answered and smiled sweetly at the blonde. "What time is it? I'm hungry."

"It's still eleven in the morning," Brittany retorted with a smirk on her face.

"Really," Santana shrugged. "I thought it's time for lunch already. It must have been all those walking distance I've traveled."

"Come on, help me up so we can go back to the car and get the sandwi-" Brittany stood up and her foot slipped on the rock. Into the water, the blonde splashed. She frantically groped for some footing but she failed.

"Britt!" Santana yelled and unslung her camera from her neck, and without even thinking twice, she dove into the water. She quickly stashed the wriggling blonde and pulled her back to the lake's shore.

The water was over halfway of their bodies, and evidently, Santana's shirt was soaked, and so was Brittany's own. The thin material couldn't conceal the blonde's lace lingerie and Santana couldn't help but stare. Santana's red bra wasn't in a better shape either. The red material stood out against the thin white cotton shirt that Santana had wore. And the way Brittany had bitten her lower lip as her gazed traveled down to the Latina's abs told Santana that Brittany also wanted this.

She needed this.

They both need it.

Santana ventured to take a step, but the slippery terrain proved to be more difficult that what it was. Santana fell headfirst and rolled over, taking Brittany down with her and they both laid on the ground, with Santana hovering on top of Brittany's thinly-clad by her wet denim jeans and her wet blouse.

They did not say a word. The only language they were speaking were harsh breathing and the constant rising and falling of their chests. Santana did not make a move, and her eyes must have shown the confusion inside her about her feelings because she then felt the blonde's soft, gentle hands touch her cheek.

"It's okay, Santana."

Brittany's voice was soft, and slurry. Like, it was torn out of her throat and that there was the desperation in her voice. It told Santana that Brittany needed it.

"Are you sure?" Santana's voice found her again.

Brittany only nodded. And Santana held up her lips and cautiously kissed the blonde below her. Her lips trailed the soft kisses into Brittany's mouth, along the taut line of her jaw and along the curve of her earlobes.

Santana's kisses trailed on the blonde hair, down to the nape of Brittany's neck and onto the strong, youthful shoulders, causing Brittany to shiver at the Latina's touch. Tan hands went underneath the blonde's wet shirt, causing the blonde to shudder at the feeling.

Nimble fingers started to hover over Brittany's bra-clad pink buds and it earned Santana a pleasant, sultry moan from the blonde's mouth. Underneath the Latina, the blonde was a writhing mess. Santana quickly raised the hem of the shirt and let Brittany take it off. Santana's kisses went further down until she came on to the valley between Brittany's plump breasts. Using a single hand, Santana unhooked the blonde's bra from behind and bit material, so she can tear it away from the blonde's breasts like an animal tears away the flesh of its prey.

"Santana..." Brittany whispered from above her as Santana delved her tongue between the roundness of Brittany's chest.

"Santana...more..." Brittany moaned louder this time as a tongue shot out and captured one of the blonde's nipples.

The tan fingers were already underneath the blonde's waistband and Brittany quickly shimmied out of the denim jeans she was wearing. Santana's strong left hand was already coated with the wetness that matched Brittany's urgent need.

Seeing the glistening moist from Brittany's deep cavern, Santana brought it to her mouth and licked her index finger clean. She sucked on it until she saw Brittany squirming and Santana's left hadn made its traverse along the lace lingerie again. This time though, the hand was already pulling away the obstructive waistband from the milky-white thighs.

"Are you sure?" Santana asked from between the blonde's legs.

"Please," Brittany whispered, the need evident in her voice. "Please, Santana. Please."

Propping herself with her knees, and using her hands to keep Brittany's knees in place, Santana bent down, inhaling the sweetness that was Brittany. She softly poked her tongue out, and she slowly delved into the warm moist slit.

Above her, Brittany's breathing became ragged, short puffs of air as she started to teeter over the edge of her senses. Flicking viciously, yet never losing the gentleness at the same time, Santana worked Brittany up. She occasionally bit some part of the blonde's thigh, only to spur Brittany's loud moans on.

A few more flicks and Brittany's voice became sharp intakes of air that always seemed to be never enough. She was dangerously teetering over the edge, and now Santana added a finger to her ministrations. Brittany was writhing at her touch, restless and needy and she was...earthly.

"San...Santana...ugh," Brittany started to knead Santana's tuff of raven-dark hair.

"Brittany, let it go. Come for me," Santana breathed harshly as she sucked on the wetness that was Brittany at its purest.

"Santana..." Brittany wheezed out as she felt another finger adding up to fill her. "Santana...San-ahh...San, fast-ah...faster..."

Pumping gently with two fingers inside the blonde, Santana curled her fingers gently, all the same time hitting that sweet spot inside Brittany, causing the blonde's legs to twitch uncontrollably.

"San...ahh, San...oh...oh," Brittany breathed out as she felt herself tumbling down the edge, all the time feeling the pulsing pump from Santana and spurred her wetness even more. She could feel the warmth trickled inside her.

"Santanaaah...ohhh," she felt herself crash against her limit. And there was that electric buzz that seemed to never stop coursing through her. Suddenly her head felt so light and all she wanted to do was smile lazily as Santana looked at her.

"Hey baby," Santana grinned.

"Hey you," Brittany's lazy smile grew and she craned her head to put a kiss on Santana's lips, only to taste herself in them.

"Go to sleep," she heard Santana hum.

"Be here when I wake up."

"I will. I promise," it was all she had heard before she felt her eyelids drop.

Brittany looked at Santana as the woman dressed into her dampened clothes again. It's annoying and crazy and beautiful at the same time and it hurts Brittany, because she knew Santana had regretted kissing her. But she would never let herself regret at the beautiful feeling she and Santana had shared.

"San," the intimacy in her voice had scared her. She had never felt so close to someone before, not even Sam. And it's quiet making her feel as if she had made a wrong thing.

"Yes, Brittany?" Santana answered. Suddenly, an inkling hit Santana as to why her feelings for Brittany just skyrocketed to a premium. It felt like she wasn't just having some earthly sharing with the blonde. It's like whatever that they did earlier had reinforced their bond.

"I'm not regretting it, Santana," Brittany stated. "And I hope you don't."

"Believe me, Brittany. I don't regret anything about it. I believe in us, and what we did was special. Not just some unstoppable hormonal outburst," Santana strutted and started to gently cup the blonde's face. "I love you, Brittany Pierce-Evans. I love you. And falling in love with you is like falling to another dimension. I can't stop...I can't even put a pause to it so that I can think. You're an enchantress, Brittany."

Brittany just nodded and looked at her. "I'm sorry again."

"Shh, baby hush it. It's never your fault I fell in love with you. It was my own choice," Santana smiled, held her close, and then she left another lingering kiss on Brittany's lips. "Come on, let's help you with some dry clothes. I got some back in the car and maybe we can drive around the country. You know, live for a while. Be crazy for a short time. Even for just tonight we'll be free."

Brittany nodded and thought it over.

Santana was right.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, so there you have it, Brittany has officially went goody-goody with Santana. Thank you so so much, readers, for choosing to read my fic and yeah, I hope you enjoy.**

**Thank you to ManuPRS. She's incredibly awesome at things. (:**

**xx**


	4. Music and Alcohol

Santana looked at Brittany as they were driving back from the trail that afternoon. Neither of them spoke word about what had happened between them as the day wore on. However, the both of them casually sent stolen glances across each other. And each of them knew what the other had been doing, although Brittany flinched her gaze away from Santana whenever the Latina looked at her way.

"Britt," Santana started to say and she cast the blonde an apologetic look. "I really understand you if you'd not want to see me again. I apologize for my misbehavior earlier and..."

"Santana it's not your fault, nor mine," Brittany's voice quavered under the Latina's gaze, her hands wringing Santana's large, old shirt that she was wearing. After the incident in the lake, there was nothing the blonde could do but wear the extra shirts Santana had stashed under her Chevy's dashboard. "I understand that you still feel guilty, too. But I want you to know that I wanted it. That I want you."

Santana shrugged as she looked at the blonde. "I don't know, Brittany. I mean, you're married and...I can't ruin your marriage. I mean, I don't have a family and I grew up not having them., and I would really be sorry for Ashley if she loses her parents. It's not easy. You might as well say that I have the front row seats if experiencing the feeling of not having parents is a movie to watch."

"I'm sorry," Brittany leaned back on the passenger seat and watched the setting sun across the lake. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, Santana."

"Hey, it's okay, okay?" Santana cooed as she held Brittany's left hand with her right. "I mean, I've been over it, so I kinda feel that it's okay now. I just don't want you to be conflicted with your relationship with Sam. I love you, but I came out too late and a little to behind so, I guess, this thing we're having. I don't know."

"Yeah, sure," Brittany answered nonchalantly. "I totally get you, Santana."

"I mean, Brittany, we have this two, two and a half days to spend between us. I don't want you to choose between me and your family, but I just want you to spend time with me."

"I know..." Brittany said thoughtfully, without even missing a beat. She shuffled her barefoot toes together hoping that she'd keep them warm.

"I have my sneakers inside the glove compartment if you need shoes," Santana offered.

Brittany scrambled to get the shoes, and she started to slip them on her foot. "Thanks," she mustered half a smile and Santana just nodded her head. Brittany was pretty thankful she and Santana had the same shoe size.

"Do you want to go have dinner with me?" Santana asked.

Brittany wanted to refuse, because she knew she can't help herself if Santana would ever venture out to do it again. She knew she's intoxicated with the Latina's presence. There was something about Santana that was so strong for Brittany...something that's too overpowering.

Brittany nodded her head anyways.

Instead of turning right towards the road they had taken from Brittany's house, Santana took a left turn, on the way to Columbus.

"Hey, where we going?" Brittany asked.

"Somewhere where no one knew us," Santana smirked at her. "So we can have a good time."

The tires of the old Chevy screeched as Santana sped down the highway. It's almost eight in the evening and the lights of the city started to light up. Santana watched the blonde as the streetlights caught her face.

"You're beautiful," Santana husked.

"Thanks," bashfully, Brittany ducked her head and shyly batted her eyelids.

"I'll get us dinner, okay? I'll be back," Santana got off the car once she had parked it on an empty space and started to walk towards a food station. Fifteen minutes later, she came back holding two food boxes and a six-pack of cheap beer.

"So, here's dinner for the two of us," Santana handed her one food box and smiled at Brittany. "We should eat it in the back. I don't want raccoons trying to find some morsels inside here."

"Yeah, we should," Brittany agreed and got out of the car. She shuffled and hoisted herself towards the back of the car and a few moments later, Santana followed suit. Clutching her food box, Santana leaned on the left side of the truck and straightened her legs, laying them over the truck's floor.

"I've had some of these," Santana lighted a candle and let the wax drip on the cold metal. She then mounted the lighted candle on the melted wax. "So, here's to our first candlelit dinner."

"You're funny sometimes, Santana," Brittany smugly smiled.

"Of course, I am. Do you want some beer?" Santana asked as she handed an opened bottle for Brittany.

"Thank you," the blonde smiled at her.

"So, bon appetit, ma cherie," Santana held her bottle to a toast, and it was responded rightly by Brittany.

"Have you ever gone to France?" Brittany giggled.

"Yes, I have. Just for a few days, though. It was not really much," Santana shrugged and took a swig from her bottle.

"I've never been far from home," Brittany smiled almost sadly.

"Yeah? Try to tell me about your days," Santana shuffled and moved to sit beside Brittany.

"Well, I grew up the typical way a country girl was born. I loved to dance in the local fairs. I went to the local community high school, in Lima, all those stuff, you know. I was a part of the Glee Club. In McKinley High, I was the Senior Class President and I was a head Cheerio. Then I got knocked up and became the all-stay home wife."

"Wow, you must be one interesting chick in your high school years. I think a lot would kill for you," Santana chuckled.

"You think so?" Brittany quirked a brow. "I've always wanted to believe I was an Indian princess. That one day, my dream catcher would capture the best dream for me and will find me the spirit I was supposed to mate with, forever."

"You believe on those?" Santana asked, a little bit shell-shocked, but she asked Brittany all the same. "I mean, the dream catchers."

"Yeah. It might be voodoo, but I'm kind of enchanted by it," Brittany shrugged, and then she started to lean on to Santana's chest.

"I believe in magic, too. I mean, I believe everything has magic in them," Santana smiled meaningfully. "Even in this night, this moment, I believe there has to be some magic in this. And you're enchanting, too."

Brittany looked at Santana as if she was talking nonsense, bust Santana could say the right things in the right time. Suddenly, Santana sat straight up.

"Come on, get up," Santana said and the blonde had nothing to do but follow Santana.

"Where are you going, Santana?" Brittany asked.

"We're gonna make some more magic," Santana held up her hands for Brittany to take, which the blonde quickly took and smiled as she stood up. They started to walk across the parking lot and into one of the pubs that dotted along the sidewalks.

The lights were low and it gave the whole room a plush amber color because of the yellow light that bathed them as Santana and Brittany seated themselves on the booth. There was a makeshift stage that was once occupied by some teenage rock star wannabes and these kids were nowhere to be found.

"I'll have a mug of ale," Santana smiled. "What about you, Britt?"

"I'll have a bottle of beer," Brittany said.

Santana had a couple of mugs later and Brittany had three bottles. By then, Santana was already drunk and her body was humming slightly quicker than usual. The Latina then stood up and took the microphone from its stand on the stage.

"Hey everyone," she hoarsely croaked out. "I want to...sing."

Loud whistles came from across the room and there was a round of applause. Santana continued. "I want to sing...because...I want to sing. And I want to sing...well, never mind. So for you, Brittany. Songbird."

She started to sway and swagger blindly across the stage, waving mug of ale around and sloshing the beverage in it. She quickly caught up to the music of the piano and she hoarsely sung.

"For you...there'll be no more crying..."

She took a full swig from her mug. "For you...the sun will be shining..."

"You're good, you're good!" Brittany yelled from their booth.

"And I feel that when I'm with you, it's alright...I know it's-" Santana took another swig. "I know it's 'ight. And the songbirds were singing...like they knew the score, oh woah..."

Suddenly, Santana looked at Brittany with her deep-brown eyes and Brittany instantly knew that those brown orbs were full of emotion. "And I love you, I love you, I love you..." Santana hoarsely sung, all in the wrong tones. Then she put the microphone back to it's holder and she swaggered back to the booth she and Brittany were occupying.

Santana made her way to the bathroom as she walked past Brittany. When she walked in the premises, the stalls were empty and Santana bent over the sink to wash her face from the drunkenness.

"Hey," Brittany appeared on the door. "I hoped that I could find you here."

"Hey you," Santana smiled. "Why'd you follow me?"

"Missed you," Brittany shrugged.

"Come on," Santana pulled Brittany into the last stall and locked the door safely behind her. She took a real good look at Brittany, whose face was flushed read and body was evidently humming as it touched Santana's.

Santana started to capture Brittany's lips with fervent kisses, all the same time, her hands made their way underneath the old shirt Brittany was wearing. The blonde then shimmied herself out of the obstructive fabric. Seeing that Santana had made no move to get naked, Brittany started to pull Santana's shirt above her head.

Santana's passionate kisses started to move down the blonde's chest, nibbling on the flesh, making red marks behind her trail. Stopping slightly to admire her handiwork, Santana started to kiss the blonde's chest again, curving underneath one breast. She then gasped back for air and her kisses had become wet and sloppy as she started to bite on the sensitive, rosy-pink areola.

Brittany started trying to pull herself out of the pants she was wearing. Helping Brittany out and pulling them halfway down, Santana traced her tan fingers across the wet slit, capturing the blonde's arousal as well.

"Sahntahnaah...ahh," Brittany moaned as she felt her legs involuntarily opening wider to let the Latina gain access. "More...ugh."

"Baby, I'm gonna make you happy," Santana husked into Brittany's dripping core. She parted Brittany's legs and using her left hand, Santana parted Brittany's wet, slick folds. Instantly, Santana's mouth watered at the view. Under the dim light, Santana could make out every ridge, every fold beautifying Brittany's pink, soft muscles.

"Santana...quick, I need...I need..." Brittany's voice were indented by sharp intakes of breath.

Seeing the blonde's need, Santana delved her tongue on to the moist muscle. Her tongue traced every ridge that textured the blonde's core. And her tongue continued its task until she found the small nub of muscles that was the center of Brittany's pleasure. She nibbled on it and defted small, circular patterns around it, eliciting the most animalistic moans from the blonde's mouth above her.

"Santana...uhhh, oh...San, please...don't...ahh," Brittany hadn't heard herself scream out as the Latina sucked on her bundle of nerves. The feeling and the amount adrenaline rushing through her veins was somewhat very...foreign.

Santana had been crouching on the bathroom floor, but she didn't seemed to mind the ache on her knees as she heard the moan from the blonde who was propped on the cubicle's ledge, writhing and wriggling from the ecstasy she was feeling.

Santana flicked her tongue faster as she felt Brittany's muscles clench. She knew that Brittany was approaching her climax, and Santana did not plan on letting her go yet...not yet. Tentatively pushing her tongue in and out of the moist hole, Santana's hand took off her pants and underwear and then she found her own bundle of nerves between her own legs. But, a few moments passed by, cream-white hands and milky lithe fingers joined the caramel ones and started to trace Santana's moist slit. Two fingers found its way and strained to get through the tight ring of muscles that marked Santana's entrance.

"Britt...Britt...ohh, ohh my go-...ahhh," Santana moaned as two slender fingers made their way into the hot, moist well, all the same time filling Santana up with a sense of fullness.

"Santana, I...I need you, inside...please..." Brittany whimpered as her other hand clung on to Santana's neck. The Latina hoisted herself and slipped in two caramel fingers inside the blonde's wet folds. Santana started to pump slowly into the blonde. Santana forcefully pushed through, and sometimes, Santana goes curling her fingers, and in turn successfully hitting the sweet spot inside Brittany that sent her teetering around the edge of ecstasy.

"San...San..." Brittany's moans became louder and louder as Santana pushed harder and harder inside her. The Latina's pace quickened, and suddenly, she withdrew her fingers fully.

Brittany's eyes flared open at the sense of the contact loss. Whimpering slightly, she raised her sweaty-browed blue eyes to Santana. The Latina's face softened and her questioning look was answered by Brittany's whisper. "Please, Santana."

Parting the blonde's legs again, she slipped her tan left hand between the milky thighs. Santana pushed into the blonde's deep cavern and started her slow pumping. Gently but surely, she quickened her pace again, and she could hear the blonde's spasmodic breaths. A hand found its way back to her thighs, and soon into the Latina's womanhood.

"San...I want to you...to come with...ahh..." Santana's fingers curled deep into the blonde's sweet spot.

"Please, Brittany...please..." Santana husked.

Brittany broke into the tight ring of muscles guarding the Latina's entrance and she started pumping, in time with Santana's rhythmic pounding on her. The thin sheet of sweat adorning their bodies were glistening under the harsh light from the bathroom ceiling.

Pretty soon, they established a steady rhythm, and by each second, the both of them were becoming more and more breathless. Pumping steadily, their breathing started to sound like acute whistling.

Santana's climax hit her like a gunshot through her own veins as she felt her fingers choke under the blonde's tightening walls.

"Santana-...ahhhhh!" Brittany tried to bite her lip, and it looked as if she had bitten in forcefully, as if she can draw blood from the bite. She clawed on Santana's right arm with her free hand, causing the skin to sting.

"Britt...Brittany...ahhh...ohh..." Santana felt a new wave of heat coat around her fingers, and it started to trickle on her arm. There was also another surge of wetness that poured from Santana's own legs, and it dripped onto the bathroom floor. Quickly, Brittany went down on her knees and started lapping up Santana's juices from the brunette's hot core, and she smiled at the Latina, who also started to crouch in front of her.

"I love you, Santana," Brittany said in uneven wisps of breaths.

"I know. I love you, too, Brittany," breathlessly, Santana leaned her forehead onto the blonde's sweaty forehead.

They quickly dressed up and went back to the bar, and no one seemed to notice that it took them so long to be in the bathroom, except for the bar tender and the waiter. Feeling elated, Santana went up to the stage the second time and took the microphone. The brunette started to sing some Amy Winehouse songs which Brittany had no idea, and then Santana started to sing a song, which she explained to be something by a certain Lana del Rey.

"You have a nice voice, but you don't sing very well," Brittany smiled as Santana sat back on their booth beside the blonde. "I'm sorry I forgot to mention."

"Glad you liked it. And believe me, I can sing very well," Santana said as she drained the last of her mug of warm beer. Doing all those job earlier seemed to make Santana a lot thirstier. She wiped the dripping beverage from her chin with the back of her palm. "When I am not drunk. Can I have one more beer? No, two bottles of beer."

"You've got one too many drinks, how about we head home now, babe?" Brittany stood up after the two bottles of beer. After all, they still have to drive.

"No, don't hold me up. I can manage," Santana stood up, and swaggered out of the pub, holding Brittany's hand along the way.

"At least, let me drive," Brittany offered. "Thank you, for all the magic and the good time."

"I can't argue with you driving..." Santana murmured. "And nahh, don't worry about that magic thing."

"You sit on the passenger's side. You'll spend the night with me," Brittany declared.

They drove through the streets, with Santana peering out of the passenger's side window, gazing at the stars. She was murmuring to herself and Brittany further discovered that she was singing something that sounds like Taylor Swift's Tim McGraw, but Santana had sung all the wrong lyrics.

"I said the way her blue eyes shine...she'll put Lima stars to shame each night...she'll say...it's a lie..." Santana slurred.

"You wanna see the stars, Tana?" Brittany asked softly as she took a left turn. She planned on taking a back road and cut across the country so it would save them both some time.

"Uh huh...I wanna..." Santana murmured and she pointed to a stretch of grassland beyond them. "I wanna sleep outside tonight, with you...close to you, my love."

There was something about the way Santana had said it, maybe the way she had pleaded with her eyes, that made Brittany swerve to the dirt road and pull up on the dry creek bed she once knew when she was younger.

"Santana, let's get out of the car," clutching at the Latina's hand, she led her to the grassy patch of land just above them. Just then, Santana chanced to look up the sky and she had to swallow her breath.

"Wow," Santana mooned over the starry June sky. "It's beautiful."

"I know," Brittany smiled, not to Santana but to herself. "I've always believed that they are."

"Yeah, up until now...they were just, beautiful," Santana looked her way. "Something just caught my eye...something enchanting. Come on, lie down with me."

Santana made their way back to the Chevy and she pulled something from underneath it – a large, bulky sleeping bag. "Come on, crawl in," she beckoned for Brittany to crawl under the bag. "Don't worry, there's a lot of room inside."

A few minutes later, Santana and Brittany were snuggled and all warn in the sleeping bag, laying just in the back of the old, beat-up Chevy truck. The warmth they had shared in the bag was something that Santana could only describe as something – beautiful and at the same time, earthly.

"That's the Orion. He's a hunter," Brittany said softly, her head safe on Santana's chest. "The scorpion killed him."

Santana smiled. She knew that story, but she asked Brittany anyways, because she wanted to hear the blonde's voice. "Why?"

"Once, Orion boasted that he could hunt every animal and that no animal could defeat him. Dianna, the goddess of hunting and the keeper of these animals heard him and his boastful words. She cursed Orion and she sent the small scorpion to kill him. However, since Orion was a good hunter and because there were some who appealed to her, Dianna saved a place for him in the sky, but it had to be far, far away from the Scorpion. That's why Orion sets when Scorpio rises."

"That sucks," Santana clicked her tongue. "You know, once there was a race of people who lived by the sun and felt by the moon. They were strong and happy. They believed in magic and love and adventure. They lived short, harsh lives but they were alive. They wished on the stars."

"They're a beautiful race of people," Brittany murmured and took Santana's hand, by then noticing the bracelet that held an infinity pendant.

"Yeah, but sadly, there's only just a few of them," Santana regretfully said.

"Tell me more about these people," Brittany begged at the Latina.

"The men lived in strength and determination, and lots and lots of bravery. They were just like Indians. Everyone in that race learned to sleep under the stars and travel under the scalding sun. Women, on the other hand, fall in love with the sunset as their hairs were thrown back from their faces by the southeast winds. They were, in their own way, beautiful. They were free," Santana said, and for once, Brittany noticed a dreamy, faraway look on the Latina's brown eyes.

Silence pervaded them as each just held the other closely. Brittany was running her fingers over the Latina's cheek and she whispered a murmured "I love you" to Santana.

There was the silence again as each stared at each other's eyes.

"You are one of those people, aren't you, Santana?" Brittany asked.

"I am. I am one of the last of those race of people," Santana smiled meaningfully. "With the world now becoming smaller and smaller, and people are becoming more rational than ever, there's no room left for us, for the children of the open road."

"It's sad," Brittany said resentfully.

"Yes, it is," Santana sighed. "And I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing."

"Let's not figure it out. Not just yet," Brittany's voice echoed the same thought inside Santana's head. "Right now, let's just try to drown in this night."

"Mhmmm," Brittany murmured as she curled into Santana a little more, her arms hugging the Latina, and keeping her close.

"Yeah...close your eyes baby..." Santana said into the blonde hair.

Soaking under the moonlight until their skins were silver in tone, Santana and Brittany slept, with nothing to look forward to, and nothing to regret behind. Just them, in that moment. For now.


	5. Pink Dresses and Indian Shirts

**iJuly 16, 2008 – Wednesday**

**Somewhere near Lima, Ohio**

Santana woke up to the crisp morning air and she took in the beauty that was sleeping in her arms. Brittany wasn't beautiful in the morning. She was breath-taking. Santana hadn't stayed much in her thoughts, seeing that she would only think how they had the right love in the wrong situations. It was quiet painful and beautiful at the same time to look at the beauty in her arms and Santana had to sigh it all away because she can't do anything.

"Good morning, love," Santana whispered and Brittany started to wiggle and opened her eyes.

"Hello," Brittany smiled back, and then she craned her neck to kiss Santana.

"How was your sleep?"

"It's fine, San. Yours?"

"The best night I had in my entire life, because you're beside me," Santana cooed, and the blonde just responded to the Latina with a contented sigh.

They drove back to Brittany's house, which is actually a short drive from the meadows. After taking a shower together, Santana asked Brittany. "What do you wanna do today?"

"Stay with you, each day..." Brittany said, then she sadly turned her head away from the Latina's gaze.

"Come on, let's drive for breakfast," Santana cupped the blonde's cheek. She can't convey how much she had wanted to stay with Brittany. But tomorrow would be Thursday, and it's when Sam's going to be back.

She had almost forgotten about Brittany's husband. Santana had almost forgotten she doesn't own Brittany and she had nothing to do with the blonde. But she smiled at Brittany all the same and held the blonde's left hand lovingly with her right as she led her to the passenger's side.

"I'll drive us to breakfast," Santana declared as she stepped on the accelerator. "Do you have any suggestions on where to go?"

"Well, I don't know any. I was used to cooking my meals for myself," Brittany answered. She was careful enough not to mention anything about her family.

"I think I know a place. I was traveling somewhere down here," Santana turned south towards Kentucky. "How about we go to Louisville for today, Britt?"

"Louisville?" Brittany's voice echoed.

"Yeah, Louisville. Are you hungry already?"

"Not really," Brittany smiled at Santana. She could use a little trip. Suddenly it hit Brittany.

Wherever Santana would go, she would follow her. Whatever the brunette would do, she would still stand by her. And it's starting to scare Brittany. It's starting to scare her so much. She knew and she still knows that she loved and she still loves Sam. She was sure as hell about it. But she knew too, that Santana was someone she would hold on to, for forever.

They stopped at an off-road diner and went inside. Clutching Santana's arm, Brittany let the brunette lead her to the back booth. They ordered golden hashbrowns, bologna, grits and chicory-laced coffee.

"This is one hell of a diner," Santana remarked as their orders came up.

"So what do you plan for today, Santana? I mean, dragging me from Ohio to Louisville," Brittany smiled as the intrigued look danced across her blue eyes.

"We'll go shopping," Santana answered flatly.

"Shopping, huh?" Brittany took a sip on her mug of coffee.

"Yes, shopping. Where I'll buy you something," Santana grinned playfully and took hold of Brittany's hand over the table and ran soothing circles over the pale palm. "I want to buy you something."

Santana paused and looked into the blue eyes that resembled so much like the oceans and she cleared her thought to finish her statement. "Something that would remind you of us, of the summer of 2008. Something that will remind you about me."

"You don't need to buy me anything, Santana. I will always remember you," Brittany answered. "I will always remember you. I will always remember us," Brittany said, and silently prayed that she sounded strong enough to convince the brunette in front of her.

"I understand. But I want you to have something, just to make this day special," Santana smiled, her breakfast long forgotten and was sitting lonely in front of her.

"But, Santana, you don't have to," Brittany protested politely.

"I want to," Santana declared. "Please?"

"Alright, but not too much, okay?" Brittany wagged a finger a her and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, not too much," Santana grinned and went back to her grits and started to finish up her breakfast.

After paying for their food, they started to drive down the road to Louisville, with a million thoughts to do in their mind. Santana popped in some songs that Brittany had never heard before, but she still listened to them anyways, and Santana sang in the tune of the tape on her Chevy's stereo.

She actually had a good voice. Her voice was a killer, even, Brittany decided.

Driving for almost half an hour, they reached Louisville at around mid-morning. Parking at an empty space in the pay-per-hour car park, she beckoned for Brittany to follow her into a record store.

"I actually prefer to have the ones on digital form but I go crazy over these records, you know," Santana smiled as she held up a Stevie Wonder record. "Look," she smiled as she held up another one. "It's The National."

"I don't really know a lot about these things, Santana," Brittany smiled a little sad smile.

"Don't worry, I'll pick up one for you. Here, I really like them," she held up a record by Fletwood Mac. She also put in the record by The National.

"Okay," Brittany smiled at Santana as the Latina smiled at her.

"Don't give me that look! It's actually good, Britt."

"I believe in what you said," Brittany stifled a laugh.

"Come on, I'll show you something else," Santana smiled at her and they paid for the record. They ran around the record store like a bunch of babies then dashed out into the summery sunlight. Running through the sidewalks, Santana and Brittany made their way to downtown Louisville's crowded alleys and flea markets.

"You get the best deals around this sort of places," Santana grinned at Brittany as she dragged the blonde through the huge crowd of mumblings and jumble and trinkets and merchandise. They came into a bohemian-islander arcade, something summery and warm and there was an ambiance that captured Brittany.

"You wanna come in and take a look?" Santana asked the blonde, but before Brittany can even formulate an answer, Santana was already tugging at her arm. The dreamcatchers overhead made a clinking sound as they went inside the arcade.

An ancient lady came out from the curtain of hanged clothing to greet them. She wasn't ivory, nor ginger – but Brittany can't classify her as a brunette or an ebony either. The woman was some sort of the perfect description of an islander.

"Good day, what would you like to buy?" she asked Santana.

"A dress, a pink one," Santana smiled.

"Pink?" the old lady said and there was something about her repressed smile that told Brittany there was something else this woman knew – something that she doesn't know either. Maybe, Santana knew.

"Aere, come here and help me!" she called behind the clothes and a youngster came out of them, she was pudgy, not too fat, but just a little robust. Her dark hair hung in a mess around her face and smiled at Santana and Brittany.

"Young love, Iza," she mumbled past the three of them.

"None of your business! Get me those pink dresses we got from last week," the old lady swatted the youngster out of her way and wobbled across Santana.

"What's the occasion for a pink dress?" she asked.

"Just a dinner," Santana said out flatly.

"Must be a lovely one, I've seen dinners with Americans," the old lady said, who, as Santana had presumed, was named Iza. There was something bout her accent that Brittany couldn't place among the accents she had heard before.

The youngster came back with a couple of fabrics slung around her arm, and a perching monkey on her left shoulder. She quickly laid the dresses on top of heaps of denim.

"You should wear this one," the youngster, presumably Aere, took out a pink and sequined dress with boho doodles.

"No, not that Aere," the old woman argued and pulled out a light-pink colored sundress and had Brittany try it.

The dress wasn't too short, nor it was too long. It stopped just above Brittany's knees to show some skin and it had very short sleeves and a dipping neckline, but not too deep. It made Brittany look so innocent, yet fearless and fresh at the same time.

"It's beautiful," Santana breathed out as she watched Brittany emerge from the makeshift fitting room.

"It was owned by a raya, or a queen, of some island province in the Pacific," Aere said proudly. "She wore it on her wedding day."

"You're bluffing," Santana growled.

"No. I am telling you the truth," Aere said.

"That is true, every dress we weave, every cloth and dress and shoe we sell here has a story to tell," Iza said. "We mostly get them from our friends in the islands, imported in Hawaii and sometimes taken by Aere's brother. That's how we get our merchandise, ma'am."

"I'll take it," Santana waved her hand off-handedly, and dismissed the youngster's antics. "How much do I need to pay?"

"It'll be not for sale," the old woman said. "It was only given to us, so we will just give it to you. If you want to buy, you just buy something else."

"Alright, I'll take the wicker sandals," Santana said. "How much they're worth?"

"Ten dollars," Aere said.

"Ten dollars, then," Santana said, not really caring that it was too cheap for her tastes. "And I'll take this Indian-weaved shirt."

"That would total up to twenty-six bucks," Aere said and Santana gave her another sixteen dollars to add up to her payment.

After paying and packing all the things they had bought, Santana and Brittany continued to walk to the fancy restaurants that lined the city sidewalks. Walking lazily along the street, with Brittany sometimes dancing but never letting go of Santana's hand, they came along a diner that seemed to catch their attention. Without thinking twice, Santana and Brittany went inside.

They had a simple lunch of some luncheon meat, some salad greens and chilled sweetened pineapples for dessert. "In a range of 1-10, with 10 being highest, I give them a twenty on their food tastes." Santana said as they walked away from the diner and made their way to the flower market.

They looked around at the daisies and Polish blooms and orchids and a million other kinds of flowers that seemed to capture the Brittany's attention. One flower took Santana's attention though.

Santana picked up a freshly, beautifully made rose bouquet and smiled at the flower vendor. "How much they're worth?"

"Seven and fifty," the flower vendor said. Santana gave her a ten-dollar bill.

"Keep the change, mister," she smiled politely and called Brittany. "Hey Britts! I got a question to ask."

"Yeah, what is it, San?" Brittany looked at her way.

"I just wanna ask, if someone buys you this and gives this bouquet to you, well, would you be happy?" Santana held the bouquet of roses at the blonde so that she can inspect it thoroughly.

"Of course, I would be very happy," Brittany smiled as she beamed at the flowers.

"Well, then, take them," Santana held the flowers to Brittany. "I'm giving them to you."

Brittany just smiled at Santana and looked at the Latina knowingly, while she accepted the bouquet of red roses. "Thank you, Santana. You make me so happy."

"Your very welcome, Brittany," Santana took her hand and they started to walk back towards the parking lot where Santana had parked her Chevy. "Are you happy today, Brittany?"

"Of course, Santana. I am," Brittany smiled modestly. "Ever since Monday, I was...I was very happy."

They went in the Chevy truck and Santana revved up the engine. "I am happy, too. Thank you, Brittany, for the chance, for everything."

"No, Santana," Brittany said as they traveled northward, back to Lima. "Thank you," Brittany smiled.

"Well, whatever you say," Santana quipped as she went on driving the truck. "Whatever you say. Brittany."

They rode on in silence, just listening to the engine roar and spit. The sky was turning into a pink glow, and Brittany was starting to stare into the pink sky.

"I know, it's kind of enchanting," Santana smiled.

"I've never been captured in my life. I mean, I have lived here for all of my life, but this is the best afternoon, Santana."

Brittany smiled as she looked out into the darkening twilight. Never in her entire life she had cheated on Sam. She knew it was totally wrong, she knew that if she doesn't put and end to this thing they have between her and Santana, this thing – this three days shes spending with the brunette would totally cost her her peace of mind.

It seemed very wrong, whichever way she chose to see it. But, it also felt so right, almost too right, even.

So instead, Brittany whispered into the setting sun's breeze. "It's the best day to ever happen to me, Santana."

"Yeah," Santana drawled. "I think, I will miss you for a long time, Brittany. A very long, long time."

Brittany looked at Santana and just took the Latina's view in, wishing that they could have met at another time, in another place. Perhaps, maybe in another life. She sighed and painstakingly pulled herself back to her reality. She wanted to cry and yell profanities to the whole universe for her situation right now, but instead, she smiled at Santana and asked her to have dinner with her and stay the night.

"Sure," Santana grinned and smiled coyly at her. "Of course, that would be a pleasure."

Brittany smiled contentedly, and then her hand traversed over the worn-out console of the Chevy and took Santana's right hand from the steering wheel. Pulling herself closer to the brunette, Brittany placed her head on her shoulders as they drove silently, knowing that they'd separate ways very soon.

Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow, she'll be back to her old life – a life she did not know she had lived in until she met Santana. A life she had secretly disliked and only Santana had made her realize that she needed more of that life. Her sad eyes mirrored the setting sun, making her sapphire eyes turn into an amethyst color.

She had known Santana for what – three days?

Three days and Santana can steal her air over and over again. Three days and she knew she's in love with Santana. Three days and she knew that a part of Santana will always stay with her, forever.

Tomorrow would be a sad day.

But for now they just drove, Santana and her just drove under the golden blanket of the setting sun, together.

* * *

**Hey guys! Thank you for still continuing to read this fanfic, even though this isn't totally the good story one would want to and start to read, but yes, thank you so much for being so patient and awesome and beautiful and reading my fanfic.**

**I would like to extend my greatest thanks to ManuPRS (she's totally awesome check her account off).**

**And yeah, that Family Affairs stuff I wrote about? Hang out for more.**

**And I was planning to write some Lost Girl fics too (or any other fandom for that matter. Any suggestions?), but it's still a plan and nothing's done. (:**

**Anyways, we're about a few chapters away from the end, so, let's watch out if ever Santana ends up with Brittany and if ever Quinn has something to do with Britt and San.**

**Have a good day! (:**


	6. The Night of Dancing Candles

"Do you want to have a shower, Santana?" Brittany asked as they both made their way into the dark house.

"After you, of course," Santana chided.

"Okay, I'll take a shower and then I can cook us dinner, okay?" Brittany smiled.

"Yeah, sure," Santana smiled. But, the moment Brittany turned to the stairs so she can have her shower upstairs, Santana started to make their dinner – their own special dinner.

Making a couple of salad greens, and deep-fried chicken wings coated in chili sauce, Santana started to light up the mahogany table with the two scented candles she had bought in Louisville with her. When she looked up, she saw Brittany there. Her hair blown, her face fresh and somewhat – enchanted, clad only in a terra bathrobe. Maybe it was the light from the candle, or whatever, for that matter.

"I told you, I'll be the one cooking dinner," Brittany smiled as she half-chuckled.

"It's alright. I mean, you can just make some dessert and get some things to get ready, and we can finally sit down to dinner. I'll just take a short shower," Santana mustered half a smile and looked at Brittany.

"Okay. Take your time. The spare towels are in a drawer just above the vanity mirror," Brittany noted.

"Thank you," Santana smiled and made her way to the upstairs bathroom and silently thanked Brittany because she had a clean bathroom. She quietly turned on the warm shower and steam started to fill up the room. Suddenly, a shadow silhouetted against the steam-filled bathroom.

"Santana," Brittany's voice drifted to the brunette's ear.

"Hey," Santana smiled and heaved slowly. "What're you doing here?"

"I'm mad at you," Brittany husked.

"Huh? Why?"

"You stole something that's mine," Brittany said, her voice never wavering and still as intimidating as ever.

"What are you talking about?" Santana growled at the accusation. "Look, I might be me, but I don't steal anything."

"You did," Brittany claimed as she started to push Santana towards the bathroom wall. "You stole something from me."

Santana could feel the cold tile wall touch her back as Brittany drifted nearer and nearer to where she had stood. Like a painstaking gurgle torn from her throat, Santana managed to let her voice out. "What did I steal from you?"

"My heart, and everything that's me," Brittany husked, her bathrobe now wet on the right side, since she had walked under the stream of water coming from the shower. "I hate how you do it."

"I didn't mean to take it with me," Santana retorted, the water cascading on her bare skin as she spoke. "I did not mean to take anything."

"Well, you did. But I don't want you to give it back to me. I want you to keep it," Brittany husked into Santana's ear.

Santana could hear the terra robe drop onto the bathroom floor against the flowing water and she closed her eyes. She could feel a warm stream of air waft across her jaw line. She knew it wasn't the steam; it was way too warm to be steam. She knew it's Brittany. Fingers lightly caressed her breasts and Santana shuddered at Brittany's touch.

"Turn around," Brittany whispered to Santana and the brunette complied swiftly.

Santana could feel her legs widen involuntarily at the blonde's touch, and the lithe hand that ran across her thigh sent bolts of electricity through her spine. She sighed softly and leaned back on Brittany's chest, nibbling softly at the soft mound of muscles that was her breath.

"Santana," Brittany whispered, her voice like a million wind chimes that worked its way into Santana's ear. "Santana, I love you."

"I know, Brittany. I know," Santana responded, wrapping her arms backwards around the slightly taller girl. "And I love you, too."

"Santana, open your legs for me," Brittany husked, her voice dripping with lust and earthly want.

Santana quickly opened her legs wider and she could feel two fingers make its way into her slick, moist hole. She felt them work up the small, pea-sized bundle of nerves that was her pleasure center.

"Oh, Brittany," Santana moaned softly, her hands kneading into the blonde hair, knowing that if Brittany would continue her ministrations, she'd break very soon. "Oh, right there. Right...there...ahh."

She felt the fingers move slightly deeper into her, breaking her entrance, moving, and ravishing her. The lithe hands were wrapped in her slick, velvety warmth and Santana could see through her half-lidded eyes that Brittany's eyes swirled in a deep blue hue with wanton desire.

"Faster Britt," Santana pleaded. "Please...faster. I need to...ahh..." Santana felt the fingers curl up inside her, deliberately hitting that very sweet and sensitive part inside her that made her eyes roll backwards into her skull. Her legs were twitching uncontrollably, her hips bucking and rutting back violently against the blonde.

Brittany was the sole support Santana had, and using her strong knees, Brittany propped Santana against the cold tile wall, all the while keeping the Latina's knees open. With her right hand, Brittany entered Santana with two fingers, and after a few pumps, she fell into a timely rhythm. For a while they stayed that way, with Santana propped against the blonde's knees, but as the faster Brittany's hands pumped their way into Santana, reaching deeper and deeper, the Latina's breaths hitched into shrill intakes of breaths.

"Faster, faster," Santana pleaded – no begged for Brittany desperately. "Please, Brittany, faster..."

"You want this, huh?" Brittany hummed, all the while that Latina's moans were spurring her on to pump harder more than she ever did. "Let it go, Santana, let go."

Brittany curled her fingers into Santana, and it caused the Latina to snap. A surge of wetness pooled from Santana's cavern, soaking the lithe fingers that were once ravaging the well that was Santana some earlier moments. But, instead of pulling out, the wetness willed Brittany to move her fingers inside Santana a little more faster.

"Oh...ahh, Brittany, ohh my...ahhh..." Santana almost whimpered as another surge of heat and shivers tore through her body like a bullet. Her second orgasm left a smile on her face as she slid down the cold tile to the bathroom floor.

"I'm not done yet," Brittany stated and she snaked her arms around Santana's waist. The Latina remained unfazed by what's happening around her. The water and the steam seemed to dissipate a little but Brittany paid no attention as she opened the Latina's legs and positioned herself between them.

"You're so beautiful when you come, Santana," Brittany remarked as she looked at the hazy-eyed Latina underneath her. "It makes me want to make you come each time."

Santana only hummed in response. Brittany looked at her lovingly and kissed the Latina's sweaty forehead, then down to her eyelids as Santana tried to close them, then her nose, and it lingered a little longer on the Latina's plump, bee-stung lips.

Gasping for air, Brittany found herself licking the Latina's jawline, and towards the Latina's earlobe. This act cause giggles to bubble from the Latina's mouth. Her lips descended down to the Latina's chest, and Brittany started to lick across the valley between Santana's breast.

After having her fill, she curved her traverse along the curve of Santana's left breast, and she toyed with the dark nipple for a while, licking and sucking on it as if it was a berry. She circled her tongue around it, making Santana moan above her. Her lips traveled southward, across the Latina's abdomen; Brittany traced the dip of her waist and she came upon the down of short, soft brown hair that adorned and crowned Santana's wet, slick and luscious jewel.

"I love you, Santana," Brittany nobly said as her right index finger poked through the pink flesh, successfully making Santana buck her hips towards the blonde. Brittany could see the glistening flesh under the light overhead them, and to her, it seemed too inviting.

She neared her mouth into Santana, and she caught smell of Santana's scent. It was like...heaven on earth. She found the scent rather, intoxicating. It had poisoned her soul, making her fall into Santana. And she can't stop falling.

Her tongue delved into the moist heat; she tasted everything that is Santana. Softly, she tugged at the pea-sized muscle that she knew would drive Santana insane. She was right, Santana writhed underneath her like a caged animal underneath her. The Latina screamed out her name once her tongue started to go in and out the moist well.

"Bri-ahhhh...ohhhh," Santana's moans sounded like an animalistic growl as Brittany quickened her pace as her tongue entered and reentered Santana. The Latina's eyes remained closed, but her brows furrowed and contorted in pleasure, along with something that is between a smile and a squirm that was playing across her lips.

"Britt...Brittany...I'm...ohhh, ohhh...I'm so– ohhh..." no coherent thought spilled from Santana's mouth. "I'm...ugh...ohhh, clo-ohhh-se...I'm gonna...I'm gon...ahhh...Brittany!"

Santana snapped like a dry, fragile stick; she was tumbling over the edge, calling Brittany's name out loud.

Brittany felt Santana's walls clench and unclench in a pleasurable rhythm around her tongue, and the throbbing sensation wrapped around her velvety muscle as Santana had her third climax. She could feel Santana giggle softly. With a few flicks, Brittany helped Santana come down from her high.

Santana's moans reverberated across the bathroom softly as she wriggled under Brittany's touch. Kissing Brittany, she could taste herself in the blonde's lips. She smiled into the kiss that they shared, and in turn, it also made Brittany smile into the kiss, too.

Brittany watched Santana shower a little while after they had rested themselves. Clad in a towel, Santana excused herself to get her clothes in her truck, leaving Brittany in her room, along with the dress they got from Louisville earlier that day.

Brittany smiled as she twirled in front of the mirror, wearing the pink dress. Not to blow her own horn, but she did look very good in the dress, and it looked very nice in her wicker sandals. Wearing the certain footwear, Brittany really did feel that she was an Indian princess. She took the bottle of the summery perfume she had stashed underneath the pile of clothes in her dresser and she splashed it across her neck and pulse points. She felt like she was – nineteen again.

Her body was buzzing with excitement as she descended the stairs. The Latina was bending over the microwave oven when she came into the room. Santana was in her usual khaki pants, and she was wearing the overly large Indian-weaved shirt, making Santana look a lot more beautiful and exotic.

"Wow," Santana shrugged. "You're...breath-taking," she sighed a little.

Maybe it must have been the way Santana smiled, and sighed as she called Brittany breath-taking, but Brittany did feel that she traveled back in time and she was nineteen again – young and fresh and full of adventure. The night was warm, and Santana started to open some windows, but then turned to her.

"You wanna open the windows?"

"Yeah, it's hot," Brittany smiled and started to pull the seat from the Formica table when Santana stopped her. Santana then pulled out the seat for her, something that Brittay found so charming about the Latina.

Santana then piled the food on Brittany's plate, serving Brittany all the time. She poured champagne in the blonde's glass and after it, Santana sat across the table. "Dig in," she smiled.

"No, let me make a toast," Brittany smiled and raised her glass of cheap champagne. "To Santana Lopez, who served me with the most ordinary, yet mot special dinner of all times. And to me, and to us, Santana," suddenly. Brittany's face grew grave serious. "To us, whatever this thing is – love, you might call it, to us, to this, may this love we have...may this live forever in our hearts."

Santana raised her glass to touch it with the blonde's. "It will, Brittany. It's infinite. We are infinite."

Brittany smiled as she took a sip from her glass, looking deeply into Santana's eyes. The Latina immediately locked her gaze with Brittany's, and they fell into a silent conversation. They silently ate through their dinner and drank their champagne quietly. On their third glass, Santana smiled and leaned forward nearer to the blonde.

"Do you want to dance?" Santana whispered.

"Dance? Yes," Brittany smiled and nodded her head slowly, humming silently to herself.

Santana stood up and started to play a song on the stereo. It's not familiar, but Brittany's sure it's one of Santana's songs.

"Terrible Love," Santana smiled and held out her hand to Brittany and bowed a little. "May I have this dance?"

"Well, oh yes," Brittany stood up and made a small curtsy. She then took Santana's hand and with the tune of the song, which is as improper as what they're wearing for a waltz. They both turned and danced like they had the time of their lives. They went on pirouetting, turning, flying and moving across the room.

The music stopped and Santana's back was pushed against the Formica table, and without missing a beat, Brittany kissed her. The blonde kissed her hard. And Santana kissed back. Carefully, they made their way upstairs, towards Brittany's bedroom, and there, Santana laid the blonde on her back.

Slowly, Santana undressed Brittany. She softly caressed the ivory skin under her touch, making Brittany sigh contentedly underneath her. She stared at the blonde's naked form, her brown eyes worshiping her lover's form.

"You're so...beautiful, Brittany. So beautiful that it hurts here..." Santana pointed at her chest. "It hurts here."

"Let me take that hurt away, Santana."

"No, let it stay here. Let it. The pain will remind me...about how beautiful you are," Santana took Brittany's hand, and laid it on her chest. "If by getting hurt each time I try to remember how beautiful you are, then I will gladly take the pain. Just let me remember you."

"Santana, I will grow old, have wrinkles..."

"I'd bet my Mexican third eye that you'd still be beautiful in my eyes," Santana smiled sheepishly and Brittany giggled. Santana giggled, too. And just like that, they stayed there, on the bed – both naked, laughing and giggling and just touching – just lazily letting time pass.

"Tomorrow," Brittany smiled sadly as she ran her fingers over Santana's tan shoulders. They were laying on the bed for hours, and they just talked about things and places Santana had been. "What will happen to us?"

"Tomorrow?" Santana looked down at the blonde who was lying her head on her bare chest. "I'll have to leave you my heart. From then on, I have to travel around without a heart. One day, when it's going to be right for us, I will have to swap it with yours."

"Santana, I don't want you to leave."

"I know, but Brittany, you have your family here. And you don't have to stay here because you need to or you have to. You have to stay because they – Ashley and Sam, they need you," Santana said. "Please, Brittany. Don't choose between me and your family."

"I understand, Santana. I wouldn't want you to make me choose, too. Thank you so much – for, for everything. I have one thing to ask though," Brittany said silently as she looked into the face that she had fallen in love with.

The moonlight fell across the Latina's face and again, Santana was capturing her soul, stealing her air. "What is it, Brittany?"

"Don't forget me," Brittany said. "When you'll have children someday, please, don't forget to tell them about a certain Brittany Pierce."

"I won't deny them the right to know about you, Brittany," Brittany felt Santana's lips press on her bare shoulder. "It's alright if you cry, Brittany."

Brittany cried to sleep that night in Santana's arms, with Santana trying to hum her the lyrics of Songbird by Fletwood Mac.

When Brittany fell asleep, naked in her arms, Santana cried, too.


	7. Summertime Tears

**June 17, 2008**

**Lima, Ohio**

Brittany woke up first in the morning and she took in the scent that she had grown so familiar with these past four days. Her eyes quickly traveled across the Latina's face, and she smiled a little at the sight of the sleeping brunette.

"Good morning," Brittany whispered at Santana, who just opened her eyes.

"Morning," Santana replied groggily and her head shot up. "Wait. Don't move. Just stay in bed."

Santana ran down the halls, bareassed and naked as she retrieved her camera bag in the living room. She quickly ran back upstairs and she saw Brittany laying on the bed, confusion written in her face. Quietly, Santana slipped beside her and smiled.

"Good morning, love."

Brittany looked at her. "Good morning, too. What was that racket all about?"

"Nothing. I just...there's – I bought you something yesterday," Santana said. "If it's fine for you."

"What is it, Santana?"

With that, Santana produced a black and pink box, and Brittany's eyes widened at the sight of it. "Is that what I think what it is?" Brittany asked Santana as the Latina took out the cover.

Santana just nodded as she took out the strap-on from the box. "It is."

"Santana, look..."

"Britt, if you don't wanna try it... we won't try..."

"No, please," Brittany looked into Santana's eyes. Immediately, Santana could see the lust in there, that mirrored her own in her eyes.

"Are you sure?" Santana asked. "I don't want it if you don't want it."

"No, Santana!" Brittany groped the eight-inch strap-on from Santana's hands. "I want it. I want you."

There was a shot of heat and a surge of wetness coming forward from Santana's legs and she hungrily kissed the blonde. She ravaged Brittany's lips, but then she stopped. "I love you, Brittany. I love you."

"I love you, too, Santana," Brittany answered, her eyes closed and when she looked into the brown eyes, they were filled with affection.

Santana started to kiss her again, but this time, slowly. Her hands started to wander across the dip of Brittany's waist, tracing the soft contours of Brittany's belly as she did so. Her hands traveled south, on to the thin, soft down of blonde hair adorned Brittany.

"Santana, let me," Brittany sat up on the bed, and took the strap-on from Santana. She knelt in front of the Latina and fitted it between Santana's legs. She smiled as she did so, and she looked up to Santana and they locked gazes.

"I love you," Santana breathed.

"I know, Santana. I want you, I love you...I need you...all of you," Brittany breathed out.

Santana kissed her again, this time much more passionate and her lips were the messengers of her love for the blonde. Santana positioned herself between the creamy legs, and she could feel herself aroused at the view of Brittany's glistening core.

"Santana," Brittany said, sounding like she was begging. "Please."

Santana brought her mouth close to the glistening heat, inhaling the scent that was Brittany. She cherished the sensation she's feeling and she slowly groped the length that she had and positioned it in front of Brittany's entrance. She took Brittany's hands in her own, locking them on both of her sides.

"You're so...beautiful, Brittany. I...I have no...words to...precisely describe...your beauty," Santana husked, then slowly inched her length into Brittany. She slowly entered her, tentatively pushing and pulling slowly.

"San...fast...faster," Brittany said, her voice high-pitched.

"I don't want to hurt you, Brittany," Santana whispered and slowly pushed forward, letting Brittany adjust to the length, not that it would bother her, though. Brittany had given birth once.

"Please..." Brittany said desperately from underneath her.

Slowly, Santana gently pushed through. She could feel a little resistance at first, and she pushed a little harder, forcing herself into Brittany slowly. She took her time, not to be too harsh and too brusque at her task. Santana moved a little each time, pushing slowly and letting Brittany get accustomed to the sweet stranger.

Inside her mind, Brittany could feel Santana's respect for her. She could feel how careful Santana was, how sensual she was. Pulling herself slowly towards Santana, she could feel the phallus penetrate her, sending her sense into a racket. Her breaths became ragged as Santana was already halfway. Her breaths were wheezing sounds as Santana moved deeper and deeper inside her.

Judging by Brittany's breaths, Santana knew that the blonde was very well accustomed to the sweet intrusion between her legs. She pushed in deeper, making the length buried inside Brittany.

Slowly, Santana pulled out halfway, and then slowly, she pushed back again. The Latina did this over and over until Brittany could get used to to tempo. Santana pushed and pulled at an excruciatingly slow pace, putting her elbows on both sides of Brittany's head to let her stay propped up.

Blue eyes lock with brown ones and Santana knew that Brittany was ready. Slowly, she increased her tempo, making her thrusts more powerful and forceful. Sometimes, she thrusts faster, other times, she thrusts slower, some of her thrusts were forceful, others were gentle. Brittany could feel herself climb uphill towards her ecstatic pinnacle, but Santana's alternating tempos were quite an obstruction to her quest in achieving her orgasm.

"Santana, please..." Brittany breathed heavily. She tried to bend her legs and wrap them around Santana's waist, forcing the brunette to quicken her pace.

Santana didn't pull away, but she still broke every amount of rhythm that seemed to flow between them, prolonging the blonde's climax. Brittany's senses were long overridden by her pleasure, her mind not functioning anymore. The world could fall apart and she won't know it, because Santana was there. She pulled the brunette closer to her, so that she could merge them a little more closer.

Brittany flung her arms around Santana's neck, locking herself into Santana. She could feel the tanned woman's strong, sinewy muscles on her skin and it was like an earthly heaven for her. She could feel the first bead of sweat run down her chest as Santana pumped into her harder than ever.

Brittany could feel herself snap accordingly and everything around them seem to crumble down. Knowing she can't take more of the pleasure, Brittany gave up holding Santana in her arms and resorted to the sheets. Her hands clenched and unclenched as she saw the stars explode behind her eyelids.

She kept on trembling, long after Santana had stopped pushing through her. Such overload from pleasure left Brittany fazed and detached from reality. She was buzzing all over, and small jolts of electricity seemed to run through her spine. Santana left her tingling all over, her legs feeling like jelly.

She didn't even notice Santana collapse beside her. She could feel herself being washed out of all the energy, and she knew Santana wasn't falling far behind her.

She could see Santana's contented smile before she felt herself being pulled down into unconsciousness, falling asleep in Santana's arms.

When she woke up, the sun was shining bright – way too bright to be early morning. The sun was almost halfway across the sky. She slowly rolled over, and immediately missed the warmth beside her. She could herself being watched, and when she turned around, she saw Santana, in her white shirt and khaki pants, smiling at her, peeking through her camera.

"Beautiful," she murmured, not at Brittany, but more to herself.

"Santana," Brittany swung her legs, and walked towards the Latina, swaying her hips in accordance to her steps. Once the blonde got close enough to the brunette, she leaned down to kiss her.

"I love you, I love you, Santana Lopez."

"I love you too, Brittany Pierce," Santana said, and without preamble, she walked to retrieve something from her bag. "I want to give you something."

Brittany looked over Santana's shoulder, hoping that she'd get a glimpse of what the brunette was holding, but she failed to do so. Santana walked back to her, holding a ring on her left hand.

"It's my class ring when I was in senior year. Senior year meant freedom for me. Freedom from my life, freedom...for the open road. Freedom, in falling in love. It's just...that, this class ring had meant too much for me. Nineteen years of my life...first time in the sheets, first tears, first laugh, first heartbreak..."

"Tell me, Santana," Brittany begged, hoping that Santana would agree and stay.

"I'm sorry, Brittany. It has to be for another time. However, I have something to say to you, though," Santana breathed out.

"Do you, Brittany Pierce, take me as your wife? Do you take the responsibility of holding my heart, until...until I see you again?" Santana whispered as she leaned her forehead on Brittany's forehead and put the ring on Brittany's finger.

"I do, Santana. I do," Brittany cried. "Are you...are you saying goodbye?"

"Will you promise me that you'd...you'd take care...of your family, of your daughter...of yourself?" Santana said, her face unreadable, almost void of emotion, but her voice was quavering.

"I will, Santana. Just...stay," Brittany said, her tears falling like small waterfalls from blue diamonds.

"I can't stay," Santana said softly. "I can't stay here, in this room, in this town. But be sure to remember that I will...always stay..." Santana said, pointing to her heart. "Here..."

Brittany broke down, and Santana held her strongly, never faltering, trying to be the bigger person. She stroked Brittany's hair as she could feel the tremors subside and become calm sniffs.

"My time is due, Brittany. I have to go," Santana said softly, and Brittany sighed sadly before standing up and donning herself in a shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

"I want to walk you outside," Brittany said and held Santana's hand as they went downstairs and towards the hallway.

Santana's eyes squinted at the harsh afternoon sun, but she walked out of the house all the same, keeping a straight face, hoping that she wouldn't break down in front of Brittany. She can cry, but she had to cry later – when she's alone, when she's on the road.

"Santana," Brittany said, twirling Santana around for the brunette to face her. She then kissed Santana fully on the lips, with all the love she could feel for the Latina. The tears that had long been flowing from her eyes dampened the Latina's eyes, and with one final push, Santana tore herself away from Brittany.

"Promise me you'll not go after me and look for me, Brittany," Santana said softly, not looking back at Brittany, because the tears she had been holding back were actually starting to fall like a torrent on her.

"Promise me, Brittany."

"Santana, no..."

"Promise me you will treat this as a dream. Promise me, Brittany. Please, promise me. I need your telling," Santana's shoulders started to shake uncontrollably. She took hasty steps towards the truck.

The blonde just watched Santana hurriedly get inside the beat-up Chevy. The moment Santana locked the door, her shoulders shook violently as she put her hands over her mouth, trying to control the noise so Brittany can't hear anything. She had her back turned from Brittany, and Santana was sure Brittany can't know she was crying.

She didn't know how long she had been crying behind the steering wheel, but when her violent sobs subsided into sniffles and hiccups, Santana stepped on the accelerator.

She knew that Brittany was still standing on the porch, waiting for her to come back. But Santana also knew that she didn't want to be back in Brittany's arms, not when she's married and tied to her family.

Without giving herself a chance to think twice, let alone her resolve should shatter and she won't be able to stop herself from turning back, Santana turned to Jackson Pass, straight towards Interstate 76, with nothing to go to, nothing to welcome her but the open road.


	8. Afterword

**Present Day**

There was an eerie silence as Puck looked at Quinn meekly. "It's a sad love story. Santana once said that when people start to become alone in life they move near the water. That's the reason why she stayed here in Florida."

"Yeah, but...I, I don't know. Puck, I mean, I'm married and I don't think Brittany..." Quinn rambled on, and when she realized that she was rambling, she sighed. "It's just that I've...I've treated my marriage with my wife so – casually," Quinn managed to spit out.

"So, you're in Santana's boat, too?"

"Yeah," Quinn nodded. "Puck, do you have any idea where I can find Santana? You said she was are regular here."

"Used to be," Puck corrected her. "She only stayed for half a year."

"Why?" Quinn's eyes bulged as she heard the dire news.

"She's never the type to stay in one place. She's always told me she stayed on the move, never stopped long enough to fall in love again, I guess. Maybe she just wanted to, well, leave one place when she starts to let things remind her of Brittany. She's a child of the open road, remember?"

"I remember. Puckerman," Quinn said. "Any idea where I might find Brittany?"

"Brittany, maybe in Lima. Santana, the last I saw or heard of her was that she was in Tibet for National Geographic almost a year ago. I haven't heard of her since, or read her articles on the Nat Geo magazine or channel. I think she had quit. Try using the people search engine," Puck whined.

"Puck, I wonder what could've happened with Brittany now. I want to talk to her," Quinn said.

"Believe me, I know. Brittany's still married and tied to her family. She never wanted to give up on them. I mean, Santana did not want her to give up on her family."

"Puck, it made me realize how I've missed out so much on my marriage with Rachel," Quinn sighed.

"Come on, tell me about your story," Puck smiled and leaned on the table.

"Puck, wait, Puck, I need to go. Look, I need to go home, back to Rachel and tell her I love her so much and that I...I want to make it up to her. I wasn't really the good wife I'm supposed to be. Can you...call me? Here's my number," Quinn handed her calling card to Puck. "Call me if you have any news about Santana. I'm sorry I have to go."

With that and a clatter of upturned glasses, Quinn left the restaurant and Puck, who was yelling about how difficult it was to book a flight due to the late hour. She went straight to her hotel, took out her backpack, and tossed everything inside it and she quickly hailed a cab to the airport.

It's almost twelve when Quinn sat on the coach seat of a small plane and she was almost asleep the moment her head hit the headrest. She didn't have any plan on what to do when she reaches home. She didn't have a story, all she ever knew was that she's coming home and telling Rachel what she had realized – that she didn't marry Rachel because she had to, but because she needed her.

"We are now on our final descent to New York, please fasten your seatbelts," Quinn heard the system speaker say and she scrambled to get her seatbelt right. She waited as she felt her stomach seem to rise up and there was a soft jolt underneath her feet, telling her they had landed. Quinn looked at the time and it was almost four o'clock.

She quickly hailed a cab and they drove straight to downtown Manhattan. She was tired – beaten up would be more like the word, but Quinn prodded on. Twenty minutes later, she was turning the knob of their front door of their three-bedroom apartment. The lights in the living room were out, and it was very dark. The bedroom lights were out, too. But she could make out Rachel's figure in the dim nightlight. Quinn dropped her backpack at the foot of the bed and kicked off her shoes. Slowly, she climbed into the bed, and then she noticed a stack of papers on the bedside table. She thought they were just some stuff Rachel had brought to bed to check out but when she realized what it was, her heart suddenly raced into a panicked frenzy.

The stack of papers were divorce papers. And there were tear stains on them, she's sure of it. The topmost paper had wet blots on them.

Rachel had been crying that night.

Quinn took the papers and quietly folded it into half, and then she shoved it into one of the drawers that she had taken property with. Inching herself slowly, Quinn curled up into Rachel's warmth. The smaller girl stirred and woken up.

"I thought you're gone for a week," she said groggily.

"I needed to come home to you, Rae," Quinn said softly. "Go to sleep now. It's still early. I'll make you breakfast tomorrow morning."

Quinn gave Rachel's hair a kiss and not long after that, she could feel Rachel's breath become even and she knew her wife's asleep.

..

Rachel opened her eyes and she tried to adjust them to the bright sunlight that's flooding her bedroom. She thought that she must have forgotten to pull the blinds down last night, that's why it's so bright, but as the events of the night came back to her, she remembered.

Quinn had come home.

She hurriedly looked around and did not feel the blonde's warmth beside her. Her heart beat picked up into a race as she tried to remember where she had put the divorce papers.

"Good morning, Rae," Quinn said softly as she watched the flustered Rachel who was sitting up on their bed. From her vantage point on the couch, she could see that Rachel was sleeping in her favorite singlet again. "You're so beautiful when you're sleeping."

"Quinn..." Rachel started. "What time is it?"

"It's still six in the morning," Quinn answered. "You look flustered, is there something bothering you? You look like you lost something."

"I...actually, there was a stack of term papers I was checking last night on my bedside table..."

"Oh, those," Quinn smiled subtly. "I'm sorry, Rae. I didn't know they were term papers, but I used them to wrap the tea leaves when I had to throw them out because I was making tea for your breakfast, speaking of which, aren't you hungry?"

Rachel looked at her guiltily and she didn't move. She just looked at Quinn with her big, brown eyes. Quinn stood up and walked up to Rachel.

"Rae, I know. I know I haven't exactly spelled the right wife for you, but, I want to change that. I've realized that I haven't been exactly paying attention to you and your needs, but I want to let you know that I love you, I love you and I am not letting you affix you damn signature under those term papers."

"You've seen it?" Rachel asked quietly. "The papers?"

"Of course, I did. And I am not angry at you for making that decision. I am angry at myself because I pushed you into making that decision," Quinn sighed. "Now I'm gonna pull you back and I'm gonna hold you close to me."

Rachel looked at Quinn with tears in her eyes. There was a vortex of emotions in the brown eyes, hope, fear, love. Quinn couldn't help herself but kiss Rachel fully on the lips.

For a few seconds they stayed like that. Quinn felt the need to pour all the love she's had for Rachel and she did so. When they pulled away, Rachel looked at Quinn skeptically.

"Is that what you came home for? Two thousand miles for a kiss?" Rachel asked.

Quinn smiled lovingly and grasped Rachel's face lovingly in both of her hands. "You are worth so much more than that, baby. So much more than that."

They leaned their heads together, so that their foreheads touch each other and smiled, looking at each other's eyes as if it was the first morning they had spent together.

"Breakfast is waiting for you," Quinn smiled lovingly. "So you can get on with work just fine, I made you vegan pancakes."

"Are you sure you're Quinn Fabray? First off, you woke up earlier than I did," Rachel joked.

"Believe me, I think I just came home. It's nice to be home again, Rae."

"It's nice to have you home, too."

..

Rachel turned the knob of their front door that night and she could see Quinn furiously typing on her laptop. She watched her blonde wife silently as Quinn's brows furrowed in concentration. She could see Quinn's face growl as she pressed a key far too long and she made her presence known.

"Hey," the stress on Quinn's face immediately faded and she stood up to take Rachel's shoulder bag from the brunette.

"Quinn, you don't have to do this. I mean, I wasn't seriously considering about having a divorce," Rachel smiled.

"Rae," Quinn sighed. "I wanna do this. I want to let you feel I love you."

"Quinn, believe me, I feel that love," Rachel smiled and latched her arms around Quinn's neck.

"On the other hand, how's your day?" Quinn asked softly, steering the conversation away from her and focusing it on the brunette.

"Great. Other than a few grammatically wrong compositions from my students, I had a pretty nice day," Rachel smiled as she started to go upstairs to get changed.

Dinner was filled with conversations between them and Quinn found it rather endearing to be like this. She and Rachel exchanged flicks and glances over their plate of luscious greens and peas.

"I was thinking," Quinn said. "If you want to...say, go out of town for a while?"

"Huh? Why?" Rachel said.

"Because lately, you've been working hard enough and I really think we could use a time off," Quinn smiled. "You like?"

"Mhm, that would be great. Where?"

"I was thinking Lima, Ohio...you know?" Quinn said. "Back in the rural places. Stuff. We can rent a cabin by the lake and pretend we're farmers."

Suddenly, before Rachel could even answer, the blonde's phone rang. Rachel stood up to retrieve it.

"Hello?" Rachel asked and a man's voice greeted her.

"Hey, this Quinn?" the man asked.

"No, it's...her wife," Rachel looked at Quinn, who stared back at her. "Hang on, I'll call her. May I know your name please?"

"Tell her it's Puck."

Rachel handed the phone to Quinn and the blonde took it gratefully. "Thanks babe," she smiled and planted a kiss on Rachel's cheek. Rachel nodded and Quinn moved near the sink and talk to Noah Puckerman.

"Hey, Noah. What's up?"

"Fabray, yup. Umm, I won't be taking long, but yeah, I got a buddy who's working on Lebanon's foreign affairs department and yes, Santana's in the Golan Heights earlier this year. It's all I found out but I'll keep on looking."

"Thanks a lot, Puck. I'm trying to look for Brittany, too."

"Why don't you try looking for her in Lima?"

"Yeah, Puck. I'm going to spend quality time with my wife out there," Quinn smiled lovingly at Rachel, who is no doubt listening to Quinn.

"On the lighter note, Quinn, how are you with your wife?"

"We're doing great, Puck. We're having dinner together."

"Yo, Fabs, Imma go now. Kitty's biting my ass already. Bye," Noah Puckerman ranted. Then there was a beep on the other line.

Quinn put the phone down and looked at Rachel, and then she smiled. Then, Quinn took her seat and started to continue eating her dinner.

"So, what was that all about?" Rachel asked, the hint of curiosity was in her voice.

"I met him when I was in Florida," Quinn said. "He's a nice man. Just a little not too, subtle."

"I see. What's so special about him?"

"His story," Quinn answered and smiled at Rachel.

"Uh-huh. You said to him you were looking for a Brittany?" Rachel asked silently while toying a pea around her plate.

"Yeah," Quinn said excitedly as if she had a secret to share to Rachel. "Let's finish eating, I have a story to tell you."

That night, Quinn and Rachel sat down on their couch, with Rachel lying on Quinn's lap, listening to the story of Santana and Brittany.

"Is it because of the story you came home to me?" Rachel whispered at Quinn.

"Yeah, it made me realize something," Quinn looked down lovingly at her wife. "You want to go to Lima? We could use a vacation, while I try to look for Brittany and ask a few locals, you know."

"I'll help you look for her," Rachel's smile lit up. "It would be a great thing, you know."

"Thanks, a lot, babe. I don't know what I'd do without you," Quinn placed a chaste kiss on Rachel's lips.

"You're welcome," Rachel smiled. "How about we go to bed now?"

..

Lima wasn't really a big town. Especially the place near Allen County and the junction to Interstate 75. Quinn drove through the streets and then she found Townsend Inn.

"Rae, this is it," she mumbled.

"Huh? What?" Rachel drawled. "Which is which?"

Quinn pointed at the inn's signage. "Townsend Inn. It's where Santana stayed four years ago. Brittany's house would be a short drive over."

Rachel smiled at Quinn. She secretly loved the look on Quinn's face now, the look that told her that there is no way in hell Quinn's not gonna nail the article she's writing. They drove a little more when Quinn stopped to ask for directions.

"Mister, can I ask you something?" Quinn said as she saw a man walk past them. At first, Rachel thought Quinn was going to ask about Brittany's house or something, but instead Quinn asked where they could rent some cabins by the lake.

"When you get to the bend between Jackson Pass and Kipling Road, turn right and it's a half-mile's drive there," the man instructed. "You'll know it when you see it."

"You said Jackson Pass, mister?" Quinn asked.

"Yeah, you heard me right," the man said.

"Mister, are there any houses near Jackson Pass?"

"There's only one, the Hurley's," he shrugged. "What? You spying or something?"

"No sir, we're just looking for someone who lives or lived here," Rachel said from the passenger's side. "We're sorry. We'll be going now."

And with that, she coaxed Quinn to drive past the man.

"Oh, honey, what do I do without you?" Quinn smiled as she kissed Rachel's fingertips. They rounded the bend and rented a cabin near the edge of the lake. It was secluded, warm and serene.

"I love this," Rachel smiled as they sat on the porch, looking at the lake water, which was turning pink due to the sunset.

"I love you," Quinn smiled lovingly.

"Tomorrow, are you going to go to the Hurley's?" Rachel's voice fluttered to the evening breeze.

"Yeah," Quinn smiled. "I will. What about you?"

"Wait here, for you to come home and take care of you," Rachel said proudly.

The next day, Quinn was waiting for the front door to open up for her. While waiting, Quinn can't help but stare at the hardwood floor of the porch. It's not that shiny, but Quinn could see that it was once beautiful. After knocking twice, someone opened for her. An old lady smiled at her. "Come in," she smiled.

"Good morning, ma'am. I am Quinn Fabray and I work for Schuester Literary Agency in New York and somehow, a story I've been following led me here," Quinn introduced herself.

"Please, have a seat," the lady offered her to take a seat on the couch. "Do you want some lemonade?"

"No, not really. II just want to ask a few questions," Quinn smiled reluctantly.

"Alright," the old woman smiled and took a seat across from Quinn. "I'm Beatrice by the way. Beatrice Hurley."

"It's nice to meet you," Quinn said. "So, Mrs. Hurley, I want to ask if, ever you knew the Evans?" Quinn asked. She was very careful to use Sam's last name since she figured out that if she's gonna ask stuff about Brittany, she's going to use Sam's last name since Sam is probably more known and Brittany would be Mrs. Evans.

"Evans? I haven't heard of that name," Beatrice said thoughtfully. Just then, an old man, presumably her husband came in. "Ed, do you know any Evans in this place?"

"Oh come on, Beatrice. You know that the only people I know here were you and the Wesley's family down the road," the man named Ed said and then he looked at Quinn. "Why you're asking, Bea?"

"This is Quinn," Beatrice said and Quinn stood up to shake Ed's hand.

"Ed Rutherford, nice to meet you," the old man smiled. He almost had a fatherly look on his face that Quinn started to remember her Dad. "I'm Beatrice's brother."

"Oh, I thought you were her husband," Quinn noted.

"No, I'm not. I'm sorry, we can't answer your question about the Evans living around town. We just came here two and a half years ago, when...Beatrice's husband died. Maybe you should try somewhere else. Perhaps the Townsend's inn. It's been here for almost two decades," Ed politely said.

"Oh, okay. I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Hurley, Mr. Rutherford. I'll be going," Quinn said and she stood up from the couch. "It's just that I really want to know about the Evans. I have a few questions to ask from them."

"It's alright. You don't bother us at all," Beatrice chimed in, and she smiled warmly before sharing a hug with Quinn. The blonde left the house and drove to Townsend Inn.

The wind chimes that were hanging by the door sounded as Quinn pushed the door open. She looked around and decided to approach the concierge behind the reception desk. "Mister, may I ask you something?"

"We offer suites, ma'am," he smiled.

"No, I don't wanna get a room, I just want to know something. Do you know the Evans that live near Jackson Pass?"

"Evans? I just moved here last month," he said sadly. "I'm sorry I can't help."

"You said the Evans?" a ghetto voice from behind her said. "Like Sam Evans?"

"Yeah, do you know them?" Quinn asked, her head snapping up to her back, only to lay her eyes on a black woman.

"Of course," a black woman held out a hand. "My name's Mercedes."

"Nice to meet you, Mercedes. I'm Quinn," Quinn accepted the hand and smiled. "Mind if we talk someplace?"

"Sure, there's a diner just outside, we can sit there," Mercedes said and they both made their way to the diner. When Mercedes and Quinn sat themselves on a booth, Quinn can't help but think about Santana, sitting in the same room, four years ago, waiting for her food to be served because she was wanting to spend the dinner with Brittany.

"Why do you want to know about the Evans?" Mercedes asked and Quinn snapped back to reality.

"I just...I just have a few questions for Mrs. Evans," Quinn explained. "It would be very helpful if you tell me where she is."

"Oh, Brittany," Mercedes said sadly. Suddenly Quinn could feel herself tense because she sensed that what Mercedes is about to say was bad news. When Quinn did not say a thing, Mercedes continued to speak.

"Well, Brittany was gone. She left town some two...no almost three years ago," Mercedes said sadly.

"What...what happened?" Quinn managed to ask.

"It was the winter of 2009 when they were all in a car crash," Mercedes said. "Ashley died on the spot, and Sam, he suffered serious brain damage," Mercedes sighed. "He died three weeks after."

Quinn sat there, dumbfounded. Brittany must have gone through a lot of pain. And...she wondered.

"Do you know where she is now?" Quinn asked.

"She's somewhere in California," Mercedes said. "San Pedro, the one near the coastline, I think."

"Are you sure about that?" Quinn growled.

"That's what she said about the place where she's moving. She said she believed that when people become alone and left out, they move near the water."

Quinn smiled to herself. Santana was living in Brittany's soul. "Is that all she said? I mean, did she make any calls to you or anyone? And why do a lot of people didn't know them?"

"A lot of people had left Lima during these past three years, and the Evans weren't really the nearest people to go to social fairs and stuff like that, save for horse rides and shows. Brittany never returned, called or anything. No one ever heard from her," Mercedes said.

"Oh," Quinn said. "Well, thank you for your time, Mercedes. I need to go now."

"You're welcome, Quinn. Come back anytime," Mercedes said and Quinn left the black woman in the diner. She drove down to the cabin and Rachel was waiting on the cabin porch for her.

"Hey," Rachel smiled. "How did your talk with the Hurley's go?"

"Hey," Quinn said tiredly and sat on the couch. "They didn't know any Evans. They weren't here when Brittany was here. I went to Townsend Inn and I met a black woman named Mercedes. She know about the Evans."

"And?" Rachel's said excitedly.

"They were all in a car crash," Quinn sighed. The happy look of Rachel's face instantly dropped and Quinn looked at her. "But Brittany's alive and well. She's survived."

"Really? Where is she?"

"She left town..." Quinn sighed. "And she moved to California, that's what Mercedes had said."

"Okay, so what do you wanna do now?" Rachel asked.

"Spend the entire time here with you," Quinn giggled and there was a look in her eyes that told Rachel they had to enjoy their time together.

"Yup, that would be great," Rachel smiled and kissed Quinn fervently on the lips.

..

Rachel was sitting on their bed that Friday afternoon, watching Quinn pack up a few clothes into her backpack. "You know you shouldn't forget the medicines I packed up for you. And your multivitamins, Quinn."

"Yeah, it's stashed in here," Quinn pointed at the small back pocket of her sack. "Don't worry, I won't be gone for too long. Just two days, Rae."

"I can't help it, Quinn. You know how it feels to me when you travel alone. Besides, I will miss your lady kisses, you know?" Rachel shrugged.

"I promise, I'll be back in a few days and you'll have all the lady loving you'd want, okay?"

"Okay," Rachel smiled sheepishly. "Can I have a hug before you go?"

Quinn hugged her wife tightly. "I love you babe," she whispered.

"Take care, okay?" Rachel whimpered.

"I will. I love you."

With that, Quinn left their room and cabbed down to the airport. She's got a long trip ahead to California.

..

The sun shone bright in California when the plane that Quinn was on landed on the airport. Clutching her black backpack, she strutted to the street, trying to find a motel where she could stay. When she found one, she quickly checked her phone, and texted Rachel that she's safe and good in California.

That same afternoon, Quinn picked up her way towards San Pedro Police Department. There weren't many people around, and there weren't many people in the place. "Hey," Quinn breathed out an airy tune as she asked a cop.

"Yes, how may I help you?" the cop asked.

"I am looking for someone, who lived here..." Quinn smiled. "Who do I need to ask help for?"

"Yo, Chang!" she yelled and a Chinese cop came out from Quinn's left, who was munching on a doughnut.

"Yup, Bestie?" the Chang cop stood in front of the policewoman, clearly unfazed by the commotion. "What do you need me for?"

"She's looking for someone," Bestie said and nodded towards Quinn. "You guys move your ass."

"Hey, I'm Mike," the Chang cop held out his hand. "Do you have the name of the person?"

"Yes, her name is Bri-"

"Come with me this way," Mike led her on and Quinn followed into another room. "What's her name by the way?"

"Her name is Brittany Evans," Quinn said.

"Brittany Evans, Tina," Mike turned to another Asian girl, who turned to type the name into a people search engine. Mike leaned low to look at the screen, and his fingers scanned the whole screen. Quinn also started to lean and peek on the computer screen so she can see the results.

They were all brunettes and none of them seemed to look like Brittany.

"Did you find her?" Mike turned to ask Quinn, but Quinn just sadly shook her head.

"No, she's not one of them."

"Sorry, then that would be very hard to find her. Don't worry, we'll try to do our best," Tina chimed in.

"Wait," Quinn held up her hand at the two cops. "Try Pierce. Brittany Pierce."

Mike sighed and he turned to Tina as the Asian girl was typing Brittany's name onscreen. The girl pressed the enter key and there were two results for the name. The other was a ginger, and the other was blonde-haired. Quinn gasped.

It was Brittany.

Quinn read the small profile and looked at Brittany's address. It's ten miles west of her hotel, somewhere that's on the coast. Quinn softly shook her head. It's late, and she needs to rest, but now, she's too...close.

She hailed a cab and drove to the western seaside of San Pedro. Quinn paid the cab and walked the rest of the distance from the road to the sandy beach, and she could make out the silhouette of a small house underneath some coconut trees against the darkening twilight.

She quickly stepped up the porch and knocked. The door opened for her almost instantly and she was met by blue eyes.

"Hi, good evening," Quinn mumbled as she awkwardly stood in front of the woman.

"Good evening, what brought you here?" she asked, somewhat skeptic and a little worreid.

"My name is Quinn Fabray and...and I have a few questions for you, about...about someone," Quinn explained. "About someone we believe you know, some four years ago, back in the summer of 2008."

At the mere mention of the year that Brittany had met Santana, Quinn could notice the tightening of the perfect set of jaws in front of her. "I don't know what you're talking about, you got the wrong person."

And with that, the door closed in front of Quinn's face.

"Look, I don't know what I just said, but if you are ready to talk about it, just give me a call, okay?" Quinn said, as she slipped her calling card under the front door. With one last look at the closed door, Quinn left the house.

..

"I found her," Quinn said out in her iPhone as she called Rachel. "I found her and she slammed the door right on my face. Can you imagine that, Rae?"

"Maybe she's just a little bit freaked out, you know. Like she was totally not ready for it. Maybe she'll call you tomorrow, so that won't be a bad thing and you both go out for lunch or something. Quinn, learn to take it real slow," Rachel said from the other line.

Quinn sighed deeply. "Alright, I'll try to wait it out tomorrow."

"Okay. I miss you already, Quinn."

"May I just remind my hot wife that I am in the opposite coast of the country, please?" Quinn snorted and stifled a laugh.

"Alright now, go to bed now, Quinn. Remember, you need to have enough sleep," Rachel said. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Rae. I love you."

"I love you Quinn."

"I love you more," Quinn chittered.

"No, I love you more..."

"Sing to me over the phone, please? I want to fall asleep to your voice," Quinn pleaded. She was laying on her bed and she really missed Rachel so much.

"Alright," Rachel said from the other line as she started to sing Without You by David Guetta across the phone.

And just like that, Quinn fell asleep to Rachel's voice, separated by thousands of miles from each other.

..

Quinn woke up to the annoying ringing on her phone. Someone she doesn't know was calling her and it seemed that someone was trying to contact her so bad because there were five missed calls from the same number.

"Alright, alright. I'm gonna pick you up, already," Quinn mumbled angrily as she picked up the phone call.

"Hello," Quinn said, her sleepy voice making her sound more of a zombie rather than an actual person.

"Is this Miss Fabray?" a female alto asked on the other line.

"Yes, speaking. May I know your name please?"

"Pierce, Brittany Pierce," as soon as the woman mentioned her name Quinn suddenly tensed up. She knew that this is it, that it is happening.

"I would like to take you for a cup of coffee this afternoon, Miss Fabray."

"Just say the time and place and I'll be there, okay?" Quinn said to sound as reassuring as possible. "Is that a deal?"

"Of course, it's a deal. I would like to meet you at the Moonleaf Cafe," Brittany said as she sounded calmer that ever. "It's a block away from the park. I'll meet you there at two-thirty in the afternoon."

Quinn walked along the streets that afternoon, keeping an eye for the said cafe. After a block of walking she had found it. It was situated on a corner of Landon Street and Maple Avenue. Quinn inhaled a dose of the salty air. Slowly, she pushed the glass door open and went inside.

The smell of cooking pastries and coffee permeated Quinn's nostrils as the hazel-eyed blonde gazed across the room, looking for the blue-eyed blonde. A few minutes later, she found Brittany sitting on the back part of the room, just beside a window. Quinn quickly paced across the room towards the other blonde and a few moments later, she was standing in front of Brittany.

"Miss Pierce?" she asked politely.

"Hello, good afternoon. I assume you must be Quinn Fabray," Brittany said silently, her alto voice almost dropping to a baritone.

"Yes, I am. May I take a seat?"

"Sure, you may," Brittany smiled.

"I...I want to know, look, I won't go running around in circles, Miss Pierce, but one question," Quinn said silently. "I want to know why you changed your last name? I mean, sure I don't wanna bring up the recent events in your marriage but I wa-"

"I changed my name, because I don't deserve to take Sam's name," Brittany stated flatly. "I...I don't know, after what happened in the summer of 2008..." she trailed off. "Never mind."

"I take that it's about Santana, isn't it?" Quinn's eyebrows raised pensively. She noticed the shock register on Brittany's face.

"Do...do you know her? Is she alright? Do you know where she's living?" Questions quickly poured out of Brittany's mouth.

"Relax," Quinn exhaled. "Look, I don't know her, but...I – I got a buddy who tipped me off about her being on Nat Geo for a few years ago and she's quitted or something. The last we knew about was she was in Golan Heights, earlier this year."

"Golan Heights? Isn't it a dangerous place? Isn't it?" Brittany said, although she was trying to keep the worry in her voice, she wasn't able to. "I'm sorry."

Quinn smiled at the idea. After four years, Santana still had that effect on her. Instead of saying something, Quinn just looked at the blonde woman tenderly. "I don't really know, Miss Pierce. That's the only thing we've heard about her. And frankly, Miss Pierce, Golan Heights isn't that bad."

"I can't help but worry," Brittany mumbled. "I can't help it."

"I wanna know about her," Quinn burst out. "I know your story. Now I want to know her."

Brittany looked at Quinn, her blue eyes piercing into Quinn's hazel ones. "I see. Now I understand why you wanted to know her. You want to know why she didn't let me have the chance to choose between her and my family."

"Believe me, there are a lot of things I want to know, but..."

"She knew that I would choose her," Brittany stated and there was an awkward dose of silence hanging through the air. Brittany swallowed thickly before continuing to speak. "She didn't give me the chance to choose because she knows I would choose her over Sam and Ashley. And she knows that if I chose to live with her, I know that I will dwell on the things I did. I would be haunted by my conscience, knowing I left my family."

Quinn sat in front of the blonde-haired woman, watching her silently as a smug smile played across her lips.

"It was never hard to fall in love with Santana. She was, in her own way, in her own person. She was the very perfect image of an individual. She moved freely, she was a free spirit. Falling for her was like falling into a gravity pit – you never stop to. You can't even stop to think what you were doing, whether it's right or wrong."

"Sam, did he ever knew about what happened?"

"I never mentioned Santana to a living soul, up until now – only with you," Brittany sighed. "I never mentioned Santana to Sam, especially. It's just that he always knew. Once, a letter from Santana came from the mail, some six months after she's left Lima, telling me she's being accepted in Nat Geo as a journalist, and that she's got a dog and her Chevy was being replaced with a new engine. She didn't tell me where she's living or anything and her letter was non-returnable. I read it in the afternoon in the kitchen and Sam walked in on me. He didn't ask or say anything. I guess he just knew it. The day he died, he never knew about Santana, never a thing."

Quinn didn't say anything, looking across the table to the window, making small circles across her side of the table.

"Miss Pierce, did you ever try to look for Santana?"

"I've always thought about it," Brittany smiled sadly. "But I never did anything. Too many times, I lost count on how many times I did it."

Quinn smiled subtly at the thought. "Naturally. I'm surprised you managed to never do it."

"Yes, I'm pretty much surprised myself, too."

"Did she ever leave you something, a phone number, an address, perhaps?"

"No, she never did. All she left me was her class ring. I don't even know where she graduated," Brittany clicked her tongue sadly, twiddled the ring on her ring finger, where Sam's wedding ring was supposed to be. "Her name was written inside it."

Quinn stared at her watch. "Miss Pierce, I'm afraid I have to go now, I would want to stay and chat, but I have to go and do a lot of things."

"It's alright, Quinn. I have to go pick up some greens, too," Brittany smiled. "Take care."

"Thank you, Brittany. I will."

Quinn smiled at her and left the restaurant, accidentally bumping into one of the Hispanic tourists that came into the room with an overly large camera slung on her neck.

"I'm sorry," a raspy voice apologized at Quinn.

"It's okay," Quinn smiled as she looked into the darkest pair of mocha eyes she had ever seen in her entire life. Quickly, she moved out of the way and hailed a cab right in front of the cafe. Casting one last cordial smile at the tanned Latina who just bumped her, Quinn sped away to her hotel room.

The Latina chuckled at herself. Sometimes, she does believe in the kindness of strangers. That hazel-eyed woman proved it. She wondered what her name was. She sighed softly to herself and ordered a cup of cinnamon latte. After being handed with her cup, the Latina sauntered across the room and made her way to the booths at the end corner, where she won't be disturbed but she could see the street. Moonleaf Cafe was one of the very few places she fell in love with when she first came into the place two days ago.

But she had noticed that someone seated on her favorite booth. Someone blonde and someone familiar.

She sauntered towards the blonde-haired woman. "Excuse me," her voice fluttered out and the woman turned her eyes on her.

They were as blue as ever. Still as blue as the deep ocean, still as radiant as the sky on a summer day. Still as beautiful...just like four years ago...back in the summer of 2008. The Latina drew a deep breath and smiled as her trained eye fell upon the ring on Brittany's fingertips.

"I believe you have my class ring with you."


End file.
